Chi-Town to Murder City.

One day I woke up in the third-most populated city in the United States. A city famed for its bold and beautiful architectures which they stand tall beside the windy southwestern shores of lake Michigan. A town that was once under the influence of the famous Mobster icon, Al Scarface Capone, who took the Windy City under his control during the Prohibition era. Home of the Big Bean reflecting the images of the diverse and busy metropolis town of Chicago, Illinois. Walking on Michigan Ave on a cool summer night towards the centre of the Dusable Bridge. I stand there and observe the scenery. The bright coloured lights shine from the surrounding buildings with logos, symbols, brandnames and the street lights between the dark canal, reflecting back on the glassy water, slowly fading as the boat streams calmly through it. This town had always been listed on my travel bucket list, I am here. The go-pro is set to capture the moment. I feel I have achieve something and a hint of satisfaction runs through me and I feel the adrenaline of excitement, yet there was more to discover...

The summer season is near to an end. The so-called city a.k.a Chi-Town, has lots to offer from boats to beer tours to cheer on the Cubs at Wrigley Field to unbeatable night life and festivals. Enough to make you want to stay and see and do all. Unfortunately for me it was simply not enough time to be able to take in all the Chicagoans flavour. Time was limited to make the most of my experience in Chi-Town.

Over the course of the first few days, I made some friends in the hostel and together we signed up onto a tour and visited the famous land marks. We walked along the window-shopping on The Magnificent Mile. While we were walking around taking photos of the famous buildings, statues and a young group with us constantly posing non-stop countless selfies in every stop as they are clearly self-obsessed college kids. We come to view of the Historic Water Tower as it is known as the longest standing structure on Michigan Avenue which survived the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. The fire had started from a cow that had kicked over a candle onto haystacks in a barn. The fire burnt the city to the ground within 3 days. We continued on and passed the Tribune Tower (Home to the Chicago Tribune daily newspaper). Entering the Millennium Park were many festivals are held. Most visitors come to Millennium Park to see The Crown Fountain and Cloud Gate, better known as "The Bean". The Crown Fountain features two 50-foot towers with images from a broad social spectrum of Chicago citizens. As we seek towards the end of the tour, we arrived at the Buckingham Fountain, an international famous landmark in the centre of Grant Park. We hear the theme song from a 90's sitcom tv show, blasting out of the tour guide's speaker "Marriage with children" Only those who knew the relations of song laughs and the selfie kiddos looked confused upon each other. After the tour, I made a move to ditch the group and try the famous Potbelly sandwiches. By the afternoon I was sitting high up in the sky, nursing a few pints and had small talks with the barman, on the John Hancock Observatory floor. One of notable attractions and beware that the drinks are pricey. When I arrived back onto ground level, it was time to return to the hostel and start another spontaneous night and hit the bars and live music scene.

One evening I was sitting alone at a bar, Broken Shaker. Nice little cocktail bar with a fine wide range selection of whiskeys. Two men sat next to me. They are not Chicagoans, they stare at the drink menu and clueless of what they want to order, a cocktail, a bourbon or a draft. I figure they looked like they were from the United Kingdom and would go with the draft. They ordered a Half Acre Daisy Cutter (Brewing company from Chicago). I asked for their option of the beer after they had consumed a good mouthful and picked up their pommy accent in return. Their answer to my question was a positive reply which convince me to request the drink. I didn't really want to drink a beer, I just wanted to socialise, meet some people and not look like a loser sitting alone at the bar pretending I'm doing something important on my phone without any data or wifi connection. So, I figured this would break my isolation. Adam and Adrian where from Manchester, the two lads who had been good friends since high school. They were both 28 years old working as office clerks for some firm or some shit similar. The two gentlemen were about 170cm tall, physically slim fit. They both could out run me in cross-country running marathon. Full of character. Two funny lads who just like to listen to Electronic dance music and just groove their way, searching for the right BPM with the right melodies. Their plan was to visit Chicago, Las Vegas and New York over 4 weeks, get away from their everyday life and responsibilities. This gave them the opportunity to hit the famous clubs and dance floors. They already had set the club checklist. One was about to be crossed off that night.

Afterwards, we stepped out of the Broken Shaker and hit the scene. I already had made plans of my own to check out a Blues Club that had live bands playing all night with special guests. The lads were keen to tag along, they didn't really fancy the blues or rock too much but also due to the fact their plans didn't kick off until late. We had found the Blues Club, it was already building up, the crowds were crawling in as the electric blues echoes louder from the guitars. We manage to get in. Enjoyed all the performances and Adrian, being himself with his good looks managed to have a hand full of girls from New York surrounded by him. Me and Adam were pushed aside from the group. They didn't seem to fancy us two. So we end up watching Adrian and it was almost like the girls where actually competing with each other to see who would take a hold of him. It turned out to be quite entertaining for Adam and myself. Later on Adrian returned as if nothing had happen. We looked at him a bit confused and why he had no lady friend. Adrian admits us he got dumped because the Yankee's had moved their interest onto someone else. Adam and I laughed but we kinda jealous of him seeking their attention from the beginning. By then it was time to mission out to the Spy Bar.

Spy Bar is a famous Basement dance club where well known DJ's spin electronic, techno & house music til 5am. Adam and Adrian had set their minds onto this place. Once we arrived at the location, we waited 30 minutes until we entered the famous club. As I entered, I became excited and a boost in my soul had made me want to party harder. It felt like I had a hit of cocaine. The Dj's got me dancing to a genre of music that I don't appreciate, considering that I was drunk already, feeling good about life and I felt contentment just being inside one of Chicago's top clubs. To my option, no club or raves will ever be better than my own personal experience compared to Buenos Aires nor Berlin. (Berlin Bender & A Gringo's Saturday Night in Buenos Aires) Eventually, lost the Double A's from the UK in the club and gave up looking for them after a little amount of effort and I walked out the club, calling it a good night out in Chi-Town. The drinks had soaked up my wallet.

A day later Adam & Adrian had made their move towards Nevada and most likely they probably ended up falling in love with some hookers and got hitched in a Elvis wedding in Las Vegas. We will never know. We had wished each other all the best.

One thing that put me off about Chicago was the fact I got hustled everywhere in the Loop (Downtown). Every time I stepped outside of the hostel, put my first foot onto the city pavement and without a doubt I knew that I was gonna get hustled by somebody or a few. No escape from it, no matter where I went and it didn't matter if another person was with me or not, the hustlers would be waiting to ask us for spare change, smokes or tell me their life story and would expect something from me in return. Some stories where interesting. One was unforgettable.

The day started out walking along in Streeterville, heading towards the Navy Pier. The neighbourhood contains combinations of hotels, dining options, wealthy people, residential high rises and a play land filled with amusement rides. A chain of bars with beer gardens by the lakefront with a pleasant view of the huge city and the luxury yachts sailing on the calm smooth lake. Anyhow, Along the way, I had stepped into a 7-Eleven to buy some smokes. When I walked in, there was a guy and the cashier yelling at each other. I stood beside the counter and waited and watched. I had enjoyed the argument of 75 cents worth of change fighting for. I eventually got my Carmel blue Turkish domestic blend and continued walking towards the pier. Half way there, I pull up a side to light up my cigarette and take a rest. I inhale a few puffs and lean my back against a brick wall. I look to my right and see an African American man dressed in a filthy blue mechanic outfit, carrying a black jacket over his arm. It had seemed that he had built his speed and walked faster towards me after I had noticed him. His eyes meet with mine through my Ray Bans from a fair distance. He parks up to my side. Yo man, I an't here to hustle ya any change or anything, I just need a smoke man. His voiced sounded like Samuel Jackson. And so I did, passed him the lighter as well. He lit his cigarette. 15 seconds of silence, hands me back the lighter. He hock spat onto the ground and asked where I was from. I inhaled my cigarette then exhaled the smoke and told him. He had nooded back when I told him I was from Australia. Just about when I began to leap off and continue on towards the Pier, he started to tell me something and he said, Man I ought to tell ya, I had this bitch in my life and I caught that woman fooling around behind my black ass. Messing around with my boss fool! We had another damn argument last night, I couldn't stand it no mor' so I had slapped that bitch so damn hard and fucked that slut in the ass motherfucker. She got no soul man. I knocked her over the bridge. I had nothing to say or comment on that and just looked at him. Speechless. I wanted him to annoy someone else. My head was sore already from drinking the night before. However, I was eager to see how his story ends.

I was glued to this black guy dressed in a blue stained cotton drill overall, he kept leaching on beside me and kept raving about how he got around beating his boss that morning with a wedger at work. He had shown me some of his boxing moves as he re-acts a scene. His voice raising higher every time he talked about his girlfriend or 'ex-dead girlfriend' I had assumed by then. It really felt like he needed to express his anger, let out his wicked twisted mind onto someone and unfortunately that someone happen to be me. I should really stop smoking to avoid these situations. But was it really all true? I kept on visualising his words in action as he kept carry on with his confessions. I gave him a cigarette as I lit another one up for myself and then I took another good look at him. Both hands were puffed up. One of his fist was bigger than the other with scraped knuckles. His stains on his clothes just not just a combination of oil and grease but dark faded purple patches, especially on the bottom half of his trousers. I felt a cold shiver throughout my body. I began to believe something. For some odd reason, I was not afraid of him, even though I did want him to fuck off and go confess to the police or to someone else other than me. I was just a tourist who got caught up with a crazy stalker or killer's confession. We had walked towards a crowded intersection, there was a group of people around waiting to cross the street. It gave me a chance to build up the courage to say to him that I'd make my own way. My tone was firm and polite and said it as if he was a mate of mine. Gave him another cigarette for the forth time. He understood that I was just a tourist and he simply just said, That's cool man. He smiled. Y'a go now homie. I gotta leave town man. I an't going back into jail again. Ate.

We shook hands. He walked off. I slid into the next coffee shop, walked towards the washroom and soaped up my hands. I needed a moment to recap. I took a seat in the cafe and stared into my mocha, come to think, his story was deep and intenseness. The way he spoke about it and detailed the events was horrifying, especially the part where and how, he had given his girlfriend a brutal beating and mounted her in the back door. Was it really all true? Was he just crazy or a playa? I had questioned myself.

A few days later, I was at bar in Queens, New York, catching up with my friend for a feed, drown some beers and watch the Cubs vs Giants (2016 playoffs) on the huge plasma tv. Beside the screen, there was also the National News channel on a smaller plasma tv on the wall with subtitles. At one point, we both read on the screen - Chicago's 762 homicides in 2016 and the highest in 19 years. One of the highest in the history of the United States.

Maybe he was telling the truth after all, I thought.

#USA #Chicago #Travel