I *heart* touristy gimmicks

Our second-last day together began with a breakfast at Kari heaven (a coffee chain called Panera--you can infer the bountiful breadliness from its name)and a quick jaunt into the public library. The outside architecture alone was striking:
and inside, it had its share of the requisite beautiful marbleyness of all Chicago public buildings.
Our day's object, though, was the Art Institute of Chicago.
More of a mecca for Jo and H than for me, it was still a remarkable place to visit. Are you ready for some famous names? Try Degas, Picasso, Monet, Gauguin, Van Gogh, Seurat, Pollock, O'Keefe, and many others. The two paintings we were most excited to see (American Gothic and H help me out with the name of the oceany one) were not on display, which was highly disappointing. Nonetheless, we marvelled at the magnificent classics, were challenged (or irritated, in my case) by the contemporary art, and thoroughly entertained by the Thorne miniature rooms.
After a lengthy stay in the gift shop, we tried to make a dent in our leftovers before heading out to the sprawling Grant Park.
We started our tour at the Buckingham (Jo, is that right?) fountain--remember it from the title sequence of Married with Children?--and, much to my excitement, were swarmed by a gaggle of Segway-riding tourists!
They were highly ridiculous in their fluorescent vests, cruising the streets of Chicago. And yet, secretly, I wanted to be one of them...
We continued through the park (in the deadly, sweltering heat, might I add) with Millennium Park as our goal. Now, I can be as curmudgeonly as the next guy about postmodern architecture and ridiculous buildings trying to make some kind of a statement and just looking like crap in the end, etcetera. But the new Gehry structure in Millennium Park is genius. You approach it from a curving, metal-bordered boardwalk.
Its shape changes as you snake up the walkway and into the park. It's a tangled mass of steel, completely in conflict with the rest of the skyline; where the surrounding towers are straight and sharp-cut, this building is curved and endless. It tumbles fluidly into itself, a little torrent at the base of the stone and glass giants.
The contrast, which I expected to find irritating, was very engaging. It has done its duty as a meeting-place, drawing people towards it. It helps, too, that it's well-designed and functional, with a concert stage and lighting grid over the field in front of it.
The touristy fun, though, starts across the plaza at The Bean.
According to the tittle of the sculputre, as I recall, it's supposed to be a cloud. Instead, Chicagoans and tourists alike call it The Bean. Personally, I think it's more like a red blood cell, but whatever. The point is, it's so cool.
It's shiny. It's seamless. It's neat.
Next to the bean fun, we found the mercifully cooling splashy part of the park. There are two towers with water tumbling down them, stationed at either end of a splashy area. On the towers are projected the image of a face; it's not still, but it's not changing position or expressing any emotions.
We noticed that the kids were all lining up in front of the face towers, but we couldn't figure why. Suddenly, though, the face projections pursed their lips, and out came a stream of water!
(Sorry for the poor focus of the photos. I'm still getting the hang of my camera.)
We so enjoyed the humorous, cooling public art. Plus, the faces projected are images of 100 ordinary Chicagoans--pleasing to tourists and residents alike.
Reluctantly, we left the splashy park and headed for some mercifully air-conditioned shopping. Then, we crossed the river to the other half of downtown and immersed ourselves in pretty buildings. Some highlights:




Back on our side of the river, we did our best to get rush seats for a production of Assassins. We sat glumly in the lobby as the house filled up, and eventually, the FOH manager declared it full. Once again, our lack of big city savvy left us out of luck.
Not to be disappointed, we celebrated our last night with a hotel-room feast. Witness the splendour:

Yes, that is a bag of T.G.I. Friday's mozzarella cheese sticks.
And, additionally, also, as well, we ordered ourselves a genuine Chicago Deep Dish Pizza. It was a ton of rigamarole (since when are big city pizza joints closed at like 10:00 on a Saturday night?!) but when it came, it was magnificent. Once again, behold:

Ah. The majesty.
A great Chicago day.