Wrapped Around Chicago

Since Phish stopped touring, my desire to venture outside the northeast (or even north of 14th St for that matter) has dramatically decreased. And, without realizing it, I let almost two years slide by without venturing to the Midwest to catch up with the Chicago contingent of my Skidmore crew. A rare paring of my two favorite touring bands, moe. and the Disco Biscuits, seemed as good a reason as any to venture to the Windy City. So, tonight, I find myself camped out on Brill’s sofa, trying to figure out where exactly on the Oregon trail soda became pop.

Chicago has always treated me well. Becca, my college girlfriend, hailed from Evanston, IL, a suburb located just 30-minutes from the Sears Tower, and I spent some time exploring the so called “north shore” during Winter break senior year. At the time, Evanston was described to me as the “White Plains” of Chicago, as opposed to the “Scarsdale” (which apparently is referred to as “Highland Park” in these parts). Its a sure sign of something that after having visited four continents, eleven countries and 42 states I still describe any place I visit in terms of Westchester’s hamlets. But its still nice to know that the Midwest is equally capable of producing neurotic suburbanites living out their own Seinfeldian fantasies.