1,001 Chicago Afternoons

“You will have little bits of bee in your honey, I’ll tell you that right now.”

On a rainy Thursday under a park district shelter, a group of about 12 people and one puppy gathered to talk bees. » Read the rest of this entry «

I’m starting this at what my laptop tells me is 1:24 a.m. I’m at the Grand Blue Line stop with a laptop pulled out in front of me and a slender young white man vomiting into a CTA garbage bag maybe 15 yards behind me.

I’ve had a night.

Maybe it wasn’t as much a night as the young white man’s night, but it was a night. » Read the rest of this entry «

Two weeks ago, I wrote about my intent to grab America’s best burger, only to find out I was at the wrong restaurant.

On Thursday night, amid the hip and trendy of the West Loop crowd, among a sea of identical men in business casual and women so beautiful and bland they could have been cranked out of a Beautiful Bland Barbie factory, I finally got the Au Cheval cheeseburger, which both Bon Appetit and the Food Network recently crowned best burger in the nation. » Read the rest of this entry «

The goddesses shade themselves under cloaks.

Gold-tinged women standing over the Great Hall, each with one arm pulling a waving cloak over her head to shade from the barrel-vaulted skylight above. Each goddess hoists a bird with her free arm. One, an owl to symbolize night. One, a rooster. For day.

The goddesses stand hiding from above, overlooking a massive marble room of Corinthian columns, Christmas decorations and people taking selfies. » Read the rest of this entry «

A few weeks ago, burlesque dancer Lady Ginger went through her emotional preparation for taking off her clothes in front of a room full of strangers.

Now she’s back to tell you a little more. » Read the rest of this entry «

“It’s some bullshit at the Bulls game!” the man yelled. “Imma get me a yellow vest and make me some money. I’ll make sixteen hundred dollars some other way, ha HA!”

The man with the vest ignored the yelling man and crossed the street. I started to realize how wrong a turn I had made. » Read the rest of this entry «

There’s a smiling redhead lounging in a chair. She’s going to tell you what it’s like to take off your clothes. » Read the rest of this entry «

Bob Marley’s “Is This Love” played in the garage.

It wasn’t a garage like on a house for a Civic when your high school son’s terrible punk band isn’t practicing. It was more like a truck loading area for a gray stone building at Monroe and Morgan.

And in this garage with the high doors pulled back to look onto a loading bay full of kegs and plants, shelves and shoppers. » Read the rest of this entry «

Hi. I’m in Tbilisi, Republic of Georgia, with my dad right now.

That’s right.

Over the next few weeks, Joe and I will be traveling through Georgia, Azerbaijan and Turkey, which makes it really hard to scout for stories in Albany Park and Beverly. I’ve loaded up as many stories in advance as my schedule allows, but there were a few gaps. So you’re in for a treat. » Read the rest of this entry «

The old man kicked an empty pop bottle between two of the slim bars that made up the wrought iron fence.

“Two points!” he called, throwing his arms up in the air and turning to me. “From the blue line!”

“Nice!” I called back, as non-committal as I could make it sound.

Encouraged, the man walked up next to me at the bus stop at Ashland and Madison. » Read the rest of this entry «