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Adam K. invited me to come to a White Sox game with him, Sarah (Adam’s girlfriend), and Raff. Since he wasn’t able to make it to the Quad Cities for the JD Classic, and baseball is always a good time, I eagerly accepted.

I decided to take the Amtrak train into the city. I haven’t used the train in the midwest since I was a boy, so I was interested to see how it worked. (Travi, Collin, and I took the Acela from NYC to Boston about a year ago.) Overall, it was a very pleasant experience, and I anticipate doing it again next time I visit people in the city.

It’s about an hour-long drive from Bettendorf to Princeton, and then a couple hours on board the California Zephyr (Or the Illinois Zephyr or Carl Sandburg, which run on the same line, but don’t go all the way to San Francisco.) to Union Station downtown. The coach class is much more comfortable than I was expecting, and had 120V AC power points. Internet access would have been ideal, but with my iPhone, I didn’t have to go completely without.

Adam picked me up downtown and we took the scenic route up Lake Shore Drive to Skokie, where his uncle owns a butcher shop. I was introduced to Jerry and his employees, and we collected the kabobs and hot dogs that Adam had ordered. We stopped to buy mini-kegs of Heineken Light and Bitburger at a liquor store. I was telling some stories from India as Adam and I checked out, and the clerk seemed quite entertained.

After a short stop at K-Mart to pick up tailgating supplies, we stopped at Adam’s to pack the car and pick up Sarah, and headed to the South Side. Traffic was a bit heavy, with the multitudes excited for the White Sox and Bears preseason game going on in the city. Adam charmed the young man directing parking traffic and we secured a solid spot with a bit of grass on which to get things set up. 

We set things up while we waited for the rest of the crew to arrive. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that not only was Raff joining us, but a number of other fraternity brothers were also coming. Cholewa, Peter, Madden, and Salinas all joined us at the tailgate. Sarah’s pasta salad was a hit, as were the kabobs Adam grilled.

Soon enough it was time to head into the game. Adam’s tickets came with admission to the stadium club, which was a very nice indoor bar with great views of the field. We had a couple beers there before deciding it was time to find our actual seats. Before going, though, Adam had the ridiculous idea of buying us shots of vodka. After returning from the bar, where he had been rebuked by the bartender, he told us that shots were not served in the establishment. Unfortunately, our waitress overheard this, asked Adam was he was trying to order, and returned with three vodkas, “neat.” She told us not to clink them together and finish them ASAP.

Our seats were excellent, on the first base side fairly close to the action. It felt a bit wrong cheering for the south-siders, but they played well and secured a 4-1 victory.

After the game, we returned to Adam’s place and I went to bed shortly thereafter. It had been a long day for me and I was worn out.

This morning, Adam’s wonderful mother made us a delicious breakfast. She told us the last time she had a chance to do that was when Nathan, Tom, Meixner, and I were there a couple years ago, and she remembered Tom in particular feasting. Tom should have been there today, because we didn’t finish the food she prepared, despite our best efforts.

Adam, Raff, and I sat out on the Kaniewski’s front porch drinking coffee and chatting. Eventually we decided it was best to head downtown, so I could catch my train. The three of us jumped in Adam’s car (Adam was taking Raff home as well) and we enjoyed the cigars Adam had purchased yesterday. We drove around downtown, enjoying the beautiful weather, before I was dropped off at Union Station.

The boarding experience at Union Station was much more pleasant than boarding an airplane, but I must say the station staff are a surly bunch. I asked the woman at the information desk how to determine exactly which train I was supposed to board, since their monitors list the ultimate destination of the train, and I was only going to Princeton. She gave the the departure gate, but was not happy to do it, and when I asked how I could have figured it out myself, I was told I couldn’t. Oh well—I guess I’ll just have to make a point of asking again next time.

I’m on the train now, enjoying the view and thinking about heading up to the snack car for a beer. This is definitely the way to travel.