I always had time to kill after the close when I worked on the trading floor downtown.
It was easier to get 10,000 steps a day in when you can walk out of the front door at 141 West Jackson.
Today would be the day I’d make sure I had my “Four Seasons” CD in my discman. I’d walk over to Buckingham Fountain and listen to a little Tony V and watch Chicago breath.
I had a regular destination throughout my career downtown as well. The stand up bar at Berghoffs, a Tom and Jerry at Millers Pub, a bowl of gumbo at Heaven on Seven or an Old Style and a double cheeseburger at BillyGoat.
Don’t get me wrong… I love getting in Betty the Blazer and being home in twenty minutes. Shopping malls, chain restaurants and theme bars just don’t compare to the Monadnock building or the Rookery.
Hell….I’d even take the Thompson Center over Restoration Hardware.
I guess it’s the passage of life. When you’re in your thirties you can pound five martinis and have a cigar by the time the office people get off work.
“Oh My God! It’s five thirty and all those Board of Trade guys are hammered!”
I’m in my fifties and by 5:30 I’ve watched Jeopardy, taken a nap, finished dinner and cleaned the kitchen.
It’s a new week… the first week of September. The Bears open up on Sunday and it’s two for Tuesday.
It’s a great afternoon to walk down the DesPlaines river and listen to Vivaldi. Stop in the James Joyce for a beer or LaBarra for a cocktail.
George can always “Find my Dad” on his iPhone. He’s like his mother… all I need to do is bring a pizza home by five thirty.
