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Aug. 23rd, 2015 11:43 amThere's a name for the emotion you feel when you say the phrase "I got food poisoning from Panera and threw up in the Whole Foods bathroom". I don't know the name of the emotion but there must be one. It's not quite shame, not quite indignation. It has something to do with feeling like the worst hip young urbanite ever.
I actually had a great morning, though. I'd heard about this thing called the Maxwell Street Market, which is apparently a long-standing but TOP SECRET Chicago institution. Every Sunday, year round, Desplaines between Roosevelt and Harrison closes down and people show up to sell stuff. It's like if you held a garage sale inside a dollar store which was also a taqueria. And outdoors. And the hipsters haven't found it yet.
Well, I mean technically they have since I was there, but I'm the only one.
I only ended up buying a churro (possibly the freshest, most delicious churro known to man) but I'm going back next week and I'm going to drag R along and will probably end up buying a speaker system from 1987 or a nonfunctional pocket watch or a dozen bandannas in blue camouflage pattern. Also there were some rug guys there and I wouldn't mind another rug.
I thought I'd walk home along Roosevelt, which would take me past a couple of places I wanted to shop, including Whole Foods. Some of them weren't open yet so I stopped and got an apple muffin and a lemonade from Panera beforehand, and I'm pretty sure that's what gave me the seizing indigestion. It's definitely what I puked up when I made an emergency stop at the Whole Foods restroom. Might have been the lemonade, I hear some places don't keep their drinks machines super clean.
Mind you, it was there and gone, I feel fine now. Though I do intend to take the rest of the afternoon a little easier. I'm going to slowly drink a ginger ale and read some comics.
I actually had a great morning, though. I'd heard about this thing called the Maxwell Street Market, which is apparently a long-standing but TOP SECRET Chicago institution. Every Sunday, year round, Desplaines between Roosevelt and Harrison closes down and people show up to sell stuff. It's like if you held a garage sale inside a dollar store which was also a taqueria. And outdoors. And the hipsters haven't found it yet.
Well, I mean technically they have since I was there, but I'm the only one.
I only ended up buying a churro (possibly the freshest, most delicious churro known to man) but I'm going back next week and I'm going to drag R along and will probably end up buying a speaker system from 1987 or a nonfunctional pocket watch or a dozen bandannas in blue camouflage pattern. Also there were some rug guys there and I wouldn't mind another rug.
I thought I'd walk home along Roosevelt, which would take me past a couple of places I wanted to shop, including Whole Foods. Some of them weren't open yet so I stopped and got an apple muffin and a lemonade from Panera beforehand, and I'm pretty sure that's what gave me the seizing indigestion. It's definitely what I puked up when I made an emergency stop at the Whole Foods restroom. Might have been the lemonade, I hear some places don't keep their drinks machines super clean.
Mind you, it was there and gone, I feel fine now. Though I do intend to take the rest of the afternoon a little easier. I'm going to slowly drink a ginger ale and read some comics.
