“I haven’t owned a car in years. Public transportation has turned into my longest-ever game of hop-scotch.” – Old Sean
Arriving to Chicago
After visiting my family in Georgia and the Carolinas, I arrived in windy Chicago, stepping off the plane with a slight bounce in my step.
For me, there’s no better city in the US. I love Chicago for reasons I’ve never been able to perfectly convey. But it’s a place with character and a underpinning of drama. I don’t smoke, but Chicago makes me think I should, just to have the accent of a cherry-red line of cigarette ash crumbling as I walk.
Instead, I settled for visiting a couple of my old haunts, grabbing a potent deep-dish pizza for my evening. Afterwards, I made it to Union Station. I wouldn’t be staying in Chicago today, instead heading south to seek out my old friend Hank in the town of Mattoon.
(Note that Mattoon has a very specific pronunciation: It’s “matt”, like mattress and then “toon” like cartoon. Corrections will be swift and pointed if anyone is foolish enough to say “muhtoon.”
Southbound Trains
I hopped on my train after my stint at O’Hare Airport and plenty of time on the Chicago Metro. Then, I felt myself clattering peacefully through the evening. I’m back to my one-bag travel method, making everything seem smoother and more traversable.
I soon arrived in Mattoon, Illinois, home to the not-franchise Burger King and my friend Hank’s home. The Burger King aspect is a funny story; a local restaurant owned the name prior to the massive franchise and won a settlement which let them keep the name. The “original” Burger King of Mattoon is a thriving little business and surprisingly robust tourism attraction. There’s another line of rather notorious tourist attractions slightly to the East in Casey, Illinois, where giant roadside attractions dot the land.
So I felt myself enter the heartland of Illinois, home of the World’s Largest Pitchfork, the Giant Twizzle Spoon, the World’s Largest Chime and the Giant Mouse Trap.
For those of us centered in America from birth, that’s quintessential United State culture right there.
Four Minute Chauffer
When I arrived, Hank was waiting for me at the train station, dressed to the nines in a bow tie and a chauffer’s outfit. A cardboard sign blared my name and I felt like the fanciest hobo on the tracks.
Laughing, we headed upstairs where a man asked if Hank was someone famous (on account of his dapper attire). Then, we piled into Hank’s reliable car and chugged back to his home. There, Hank’s wife Em showered me with snacks and we tossed around their tiny dog Rigby for the remainder of the evening. I was also given the full tour of Hank’s new home which had a fantastic number of comfortable lounging spots.
Now, Hank is a professional cook and whenever I visit, he pulls out all the stops. Before I ever got sleepy, I found myself crammed with chocolates, sweets, strange cookies, jerky, pulled pork, fancy sandwiches, steaks and other feast-aspects.
Falling happily into gluttony, I began my Mattoon visit.
A Day of Diablo
Whenever I visit Hank, our time is spent with peak levels of recreation. I catch up on a lot of the games and culture I missed while I’ve been abroad.
Among these indulgences, we got to enjoy a heart round of Youtube clips and long showcases of Auntie Donna and I Think You Should Leave. But the main time sink was Diablo IV. Ushered along by Hank’s character, I created the Rouge named “AlmostBob” and quickly completed the full storyline. By the end of the week, “AlmostBob” would be a hearty level 72 archer with plenty of fumbles under his belt.
Other parts of the day were spent tapping kegs, playing ping pong, chatting on swinging benches, kicking back fizzing drinks, chatting about nonsense and trying out local restaurants like Fujiyama Japanese Steakhouse and Little Mexico.
My favorite night, however, was a one-shot D&D campaign. I got to revisit my old life as a Dungeon Master, throwing together a semi ad-libbed story which involved freeing a lot of prisoner’s from a fairly racist dwarven mountain prison on a snowcapped peak. There were talking snow-weasels, mimics shaped like bookcases, a few trolls, plenty of guards used as fodder, charming a criminal-Tiefling prisoner, evadable traps and a rather audacious bluff to get past the guard’s post.
The premise was simple. A rather backwater village had come under the sway of a new dwarven sheriff who had a strong prejudice against Tieflings. With the local regional guard under his control, he arrested every Tiefling passing through, sequestering them in a impromptu prison created from a mountain’s storage caverns. The party was coaxed through a one-way portal one of the Tieflings constructed in the hopes of obtaining help. Humorously, while most of the Tieflings were totally innocent, the main Tiefling which recruited the party was a notorious and unrepentant murderer.
(Though the party never investigated, the Tiefling in question was a bit screw-loose. She once noticed that all these murder victims were described postmortem as people who “lit up the room when they entered.” She assumed that people with bright, captivating personalities were meant to be murdered, hence her multinational serial-killer career. The party didn’t seem to mind, however, with none of the characters ever rolling high enough on Charisma to induce the sleeper-agent Tiefling into an assassination.)
It was fun. I adore being a Dungeon Master, even with all the work it entails.
Wholesome Connections
Overall, I had a profoundly lovely time in Mattoon with Hank and Em. We had our day at the Original Burger King, spent some time swimming in a pool, chatted about endless fun facts and checked out the profoundly proud political yard signs that seem so prominent in the deep countryside.
Finally, it was time for me to catch my next flight. I said my many farewells to my esteemed and beloved hosts and gathered up my singular backpack. Then, I took a train back to Chicago, spending the night at an Airbnb in the city’s center. My host was a profoundly lovely woman who introduced me to her equally-lovely rescue dog. I promptly lost another hour of sleep enjoying their company before I eventually became too tired to function.
The following morning, I made a point of doing a wide loop of all my favorite areas. I wandered around the Art Institue of Chicago, walked in the morning shadow of Willis Tower, enjoyed watching joggers along the Riverwalk, tilted my head at the Calder’s Flamingo, wandered the Formal Gardens, tossed a coin into a fountain, gazed over Monroe Harbor, sneezed due to flower pollen at the Lurie Garden, ate an unhealthy breakfast at the Wildberry Pancakes & Café and sought out the Metro to make my way towards the airport.
At that point, I arrived at Midway Airport. From here, I began my flight of the bumbler to my next destination.
Unfortunately for me, my single backpack was a tad too large for the under-seat compartment, even when I stuffed a few items into pockets and belts. I had to pay a fifty-dollar baggage fee to fly.
Sometimes that happens, despite one’s best hopes and efforts. Regardless, I boarded my flight in an almost-timely manner for my next destination.
It’s time for me to head south, this time flying to the land living in defiance of the sun. I’m off to Phoenix, Arizona.
So until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written June 1st, 2024
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