Next morning, as I wake up to cloudy skies blanketing the city, I check weather and time. It’s gonna be a cold one, with a maximum temperature of just 1°C. Nevertheless, I’m ready before 8:00, so I head downstairs.

“Morning, sugar cube! You’re up early this morning.” Applejack calls as I step into the kitchen.

“Morning. Flapjacks again?”

“They’re a regular in the Apple family! Apple Bloom wanted to try and experiment with different flavors.”

“Potato and chocolate chip! Found the recipe online!”

“Ooh. Sweet and savory. I’m game.”

“I’ll warn ya now, Max,” Apple Bloom says bringing a plate of her own to the table, “I’m a horrible cook, and an even worse baker.”

I respond with, “oh, now” and take my first bite. The first thing to hit my mouth is a lot of salt with only a dash of sweet, then a unicorn hits me.

I wince at the sudden and intensely concentrated bursts of taste as Twilight pats my shoulder, sitting down next to me.

“Whoa. A bit of excess on the sweet.” I say as I reach for my glass of OJ and acknowledging Twilight with a nod.

“Awh.” Apple Bloom pouts, cutting into her own stack.

“Still, I love this! Did you use full sweet?”

“Huh?”

“Full sweet chocolate chips?”

“No. I always use semi-sweet.”

“Hmm. Must’ve just been an unlucky bite.” I say as I continue eating. “Great job though Apple Bloom. I could never match this. My compliments to the chef.”

“Thank you Max! it really means a lot.” She says, to which I smile brightly in response.

“Twilight,” Apple Bloom asks, “potato chip and chocolate chip pancakes?”

“Ooh. Sweet and savory,” Twilight responds, “sounds delicious.”

“Let me know what you think.”

As the two of them carry conversation, I get the door, revealing Rosalina and Lockie all ready for the day. They ask what do, and I reply with,

“City tour and Oven Grinder.”

“Perfect.”

“I just hope the queue isn’t too bad.”

“Shouldn’t be. Besides, it’s the perfect place to wrap up the tour.”

“Yes indeed. How many are here?” She asks conducting a head count. “5 missing.”

“Sunset, Rarity, Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo, and Rainbow Dash?”

*ding*

Out of the lift come all but Dash.

“Rainbow Dash is just stepping out of the shower.” Scootaloo says with a chuckle.

“Great… How long does she usually take?”

“Anywhere from 10 to 30 minutes.”

With city traffic just approaching the end of morning rush, this is the perfect time for the city tour.

When we pile in to the cars, and volunteers give their phones, I launch the conference call after hooking up Bluetooth.

“Can everybody hear me okay?” I ask over the line.

“All good in the jackfruit!” Pinkie calls.

“And you’ve got ears from the orange!” Says Applejack to get us going.

“Yay. Let’s start our tour at the obvious: our residence. The Chicago Spire has a rather interesting history. Originally broken ground when I was a wee, ~~the country’s hardest~~ recession hit especially hard, in fact cancelling the original project by the time I started high school. The site stood dormant for years with a hole in the ground that would’ve served as the base. That hole has since been filled by this here garage of mine.” I finish as we exit Spire and head north to catch LSD.

As the convoy catches up, I continue. “Standing at 4,096 feet from street level to the tip of the mast/lightning rod, this building boasts the highest residences in the world, the highest indoor swimming pool, the largest floor count at 300, highest sky lobby, the world’s highest restaurant space, which currently sits vacant as we look for future tenants, and of course, the obvious: the tallest building in the world, 1.5 times taller than the next tallest, the Burj Khalifa in Dubai. But enough about the pride and joy of my city, let’s head to the next point of interest, for those of you that are fans of architecture, the Robie House.”

Just as we jump onto LSD, I take a breath and continue, “on the way down, let me introduce you to the southern extension of Lake Shore Drive, or as Illinois natives like to call it, LSD. No, this is not a euphemism or a code word. Just the initials. Famous for its 3-level concurrency with Wacker Drive in the financial district, this is the place to cruise on a beautiful summer day with the windows and/or top down. Of course, let’s not forget about the many beaches the city has to offer along beautiful Lake Michigan. Our next point of interest will be Grant Park, highlighted by Buckingham Fountain, which was donated by the daughter of a grain magnate in honor of her brother in 1927. Often called the front door to Chicago due to its southerly location from the rest of the city, the fountain itself is surrounded by four sea horses, which represent the four states that border Lake Michigan: Wisconsin, Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan. From spring to fall, the fountain features water shows 3 times an hour from 0800 to 2300, the night shows complete with choreographed lighting effects. Quite a pretty display if I say so myself.” “Approaching on the left is Museum Campus and Soldier Field, home of the Chicago Bears, as well as the three museums we visited yesterday. Soldier Field is a “living, breathing memorial” to those in service past and present, despite controversy surrounding its major remodel back in 2003. If you’d like more information, I can discuss that later. On the right for those of you motoring enthusiasts, is the eastern terminus of I-55, the Adlai Stevenson Expressway. That is the modern supplantation of Route 66. If you were interested in driving along the Mother Road, this is where she began. Aviation enthusiasts will also note Northerly Island Park, the former site of Meigs Field, closed in 2006 for security reasons, and McCormick Place, the largest convention center in North America. We have a bit of a ways still to the Robie House, but if there are any questions, please don’t hesitate to speak up.”

No questions as we leave LSD and roll into University of Chicago. “Welcome to the University of Chicago, and the Robie House here on the right.” I finish pulling up to some open parking spots right in front of it. “Built by Frank Lloyd Wright for its namesake, this is the last of his houses designed in his studio in Oak Park and the last of the Prairie School architectural style that soon went out of style after this house was completed. Unfortunately, after a residence of about 14 months, the house had to be sold due to the owner’s financial and marital misfortunes. The death of his father and collapse of his marriage forced the sale of the house, which was almost torn down, much to the protest of Wright himself, who demonstrated with many Uni students to preserve it, which today continues to stand and is a US Historical Landmark for its design and construction.“

As the group take pictures, I hang around and check for police or other cars. Once ready, we continue up, taking Dan Ryan past U.S. Cellular. At the city’s worst interchange, Jane Byrne, we take Stevenson for United Center, where I quip, “welcome to Chicagoland’s worst interchange, en route to United Center, home of the Bulls and Blackhawks.”

When we reach UC, I ask if anyone wants to step out and stretch. None accept, so I instead park and double check the route, during which time a question pops up.

“Did Mrs. O’Leary’s cow knock over a lamp?” I hear over the line, sounding like Apple Bloom.

“Actually, no. That was a myth fabricated by political machines to bash Irish immigrants. Believe it or not, anti-immigration sentiments are not exclusive to our neighbors to the south. Anyway, while the fire did in fact start in a barn, there is no conclusive evidence as to what started it. The only reason the fire spread so catastrophically is because that year was especially dry, and it was a particularly blustery day, so embers could travel for miles and start new fires, and they did. It also didn’t help that most of the city was built upon wood. That’s why there are so many brick buildings in Chicago today.“

“Oh. My.” I hear Fluttershy from behind me.

“Are we ready to continue?” I ask chuckling at her remark.

After unanimous approval, we catch Eisenhower E for Franklin/Wacker to [Upper] Wacker. “Up next is a pride and joy of the city, Sears Tower. Built in 1973 by Sears Roebuck & Co, the design for the building came about by use of a cigarette box. if you remember from the history video when we were there, the shape of the building came from pulling individual cigarettes in the box to different heights, forming a bundled tube structure, which explains its odd ends. Standing at 1,453 feet, it was at its completion in 1973 the tallest building in the world until 1998, when the Petronas Twin Towers in Kuala Lumpur surpassed it. The Sears Tower could’ve been the tallest building in the world by leaps and bounds, rivaling Spire, but the FAA had to limit the height of the building to protect air traffic, as two runways at O’Hare at the time were NW-SE, which meant the approach path took them virtually right over downtown. Even so, the building is virtually all office space, with the largest tenant being United Airlines. There are actually two observation decks, weather dependent, one on floor 99, and the one we visited, on floor 103. SkyDeck’s glass balconies are a staple of the tower, allowing for a straight view down to the surface below.” I pause as my heart rate climbs slightly thinking about a visit long ago when I planked on one in a stupid attempt to get likes.

“Our next stop,” I say as I fight to catch Monroe St, “is the Art Institute of Chicago. Home to many famous artworks including Picasso’s The Old Guitarist, Georges Seurat’s Sunday afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jette, The Child’s Bath by Mary Cassatt, Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks, and most famously, Grant Wood’s American Gothic.”

As we stop outside the entrance, traffic builds up just as a few motorists block the intersection. Horns blare, tingles go up my spine, and my hands start shaking, afraid of not being able to move and incurring the wrath of those behind us. Since we’ve come from the south, our next stop is Cloud Gate. “In a few blocks, we’ll pass by Cloud Gate, aka The Bean. If you’d like to take pictures here, let me know and we’ll go, because we have two days of trip left, and one of them is free as air.”

“Can we go to Au Cheval?” Pinkie asks over the line.

“I’m game, except it can’t be tonight.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Why not? I also planned on Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse. Sorry to you vegetarians out there.”

“It’s fine.” Sunset says behind me, since the only vegetarians are both with me.

“Our last few stops will be Magnificent Mile, John Hancock Center, Wrigley Field, and Oven Grinder. John Hancock is a multi-use, mostly residential mark of the Chicago skyline. Opened in 1969, much like Sears, Hancock features a tubular architecture as part of a late modern structural expressionism which features X-bracing to protect the building against high winds, the lake effect of which the city earns its endearing nickname. 5 years older than Sears, its own completion made it the 2nd tallest in the world after the Empire State Building, but before we reach Hancock, Michigan Ave and Chicago’s Magnificent Mile!” I exclaim as we cross DuSable. “Simply put, the 5th Avenue of Chicago. Nike, Tiffany, Louis Vuitton, Saks Fifth, Neiman Marcus, and more. Some of you have already made yourselves familiar with this stretch of road. On the immediate right is Hotel Intercontinental, home of Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse. Also here just east of the corner of Michigan and Ontario is Garrett Popcorn, yet another Chicago staple that we’ve already visited. Again, if any of these points interest you, please don’t hesitate to let me know and we’ll make time for it. Also, as we approach John Hancock, one more bit about the Great Fire. Seven buildings in the burn area survived. Two of those buildings are the Water Tower and Pumping Station, both of which we’ll pass shortly.”

When we pass Chicago Ave, I call out, “Pumping Station on the right, Water Tower on your left.”

At the end of the road, we enter LSD, where Rosalina pitches in that this is her favorite part of the city for the beaches and shoreline. As traffic worsens, I take a look beyond the lake. Just as forecast, with the clock approaching 16:00, the weather has changed. By that, the sun is approaching Twilight and there’s a thick layer of fog on its way in.

Before it gets too dark, I wrap up our city tour with a seasonally derelict Wrigley marquee. “This, is, Wrigley Field. The Friendly Confines. Home of the Chicago Cubs, and the Bears from 1921 to 1970; famous for its refusal to install lights for night games until 1988, the rooftop bleachers across Sheffield Ave in right field as well as the Ivy-covered outfield brick wall. Opened in 1914, Wrigley Field is the second oldest ballpark in the major leagues, trailing Boston’s Fenway Park, which opened in 1912. Coincidentally, the Ivy of choice for the outfield wall is known as Japanese or Boston Ivy, which is very well-suited to Chicago winters compared to the common English or European Ivy it once bore. Chicago is a city steeped in tradition, and Wrigley Field is a perfect manifestation of that.”

We leave LSD at IL-64, where once we turn onto Clark, I search for parking. “Our final stop on this tour is Chicago Pizza and Oven Grinder Company, a restaurant located right across the street from the site of the famous Valentines Day massacre of Al Capone fame. The restaurant didn’t actually open until 1972, but the original building, according to theory, is where Al Capone stationed lookout men for said massacre. There is however no evidence to support this theory. However, onto the restaurant. This location is famous for their “pizza pot pie” and “Mediterranean Bread.” For our large party, we’ll split into two parties. One of 8 and one of 7. And on that, bombshell, that concludes this city tour. If there are other questions about the city, please direct those to either Rosalina or me, or the internet. I’d just like to say that it has been more than an absolute pleasure to be able to show you all my city, and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I have.” And with that, I hang up, marking a total call time of 3 hours, 42 minutes, 37 seconds.

After heading two blocks north of Oven Grinder, I circle back down Clark and grab three spots at the Lincoln & Clark Y intersection. Much to my surprise, the man who comes out to take names recognizes me from the last time I went to the restaurant a while back. Same with Rosalina. Since this is a popular place, no one signs in with a host. Instead, the host remembers you by face, and will personally call you without needing to take a name. Pretty cool system if you ask me.

I tell him we’re a party of 15, expecting an 8 and 7 split. Queue time is in excess of 45 minutes, but no one really seems to mind.

As we continue queueing, a few fancy guests in their fancy cars show up and conversations erupt as Rosalina and Lockie wait beside me. We get called at the same time, but the most hungry ones go with Rosalina and Lockie - Rainbow Dash, Scootaloo, Pinkie, Sunset, and Twilight. That leaves me with Fluttershy, Rarity, Sweetie Belle, and the Apples. Sat at tables on opposite corners of the floor, I remind Rosalina that the order is 2 Mediterranean Bread and 2 1-lb pot pies each for the table. Drinks here are all water, except for an iced tea from Fluttershy.

As conversation carries on, I have a few sips of water as shooting pains bloom out of my ribs, again. As I clutch my chest and consciously breathe, my ears start to ring, my eyes widen, my vision starts to go, and a voice shouts, “you’ve failed. You’ve let everybody down: family, friends, colleagues. But most importantly, you failed yourself.”

I ask for some more water, but the juddering and buffeting continues, evidenced by a difficulty to hold the glass firmly, trying with all my might to suppress the voices inside my head. Fluttershy’s eyes widen nervously, so she nudges Applejack. The two of them look at me then get Rosalina. When she comes over, I show her my ‘rock steady’ hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“I-I-I don’t kn-n-n-now. I’ve never felt better, and yet the v-v-v-vvoices in my h-h-h-head are trying to tell me I failed, that I let everybody down.” I say with breath shakier than San Francisco.

“Remember what I told you. Those words are not true.”

“I don’t know what’s causing it. For all I know…” I pause, “I could just be nervouscited about this trip. I mean yeah, I had a couple of mild outbursts on the way here, and a couple while we were exploring museums, but I just did a city tour! I got to show off Chicago! I’m sure you know how eager I was to do that, especially with everyone else. I’m so proud of myself for that.”

“Me too. I forgot how happy Chicago makes you.”

“I’m glad.” I say glad that the conversation is at least dampening my panic. I take a deep breath and then say, “I’ll be fine.”

“Please don’t hesitate to let me know what you need.”

“Of course.”

“Oh, and by the way,” Rosalina says to me before she heads back to her table, “when you ended the tour, I had never heard you so happy since we got married.”

Shocked by her revelation, I completely overlook the fact that the shooting pains are gone and the voice has been silenced.

“This is unbelievable, Max. What’s gotten into you?” Applejack says.

“I honestly don’t know. I’m not in dire straits nor do I have a reason to be. I’m going to take a punt that I’m stuck in a mental rut of ‘if nothing’s wrong, then something’s up.’”

“Where did ‘ya learn that?” Granny Smith asks just as confused as her granddaughter.

“Well, I guess that’s due to me feeling a need to prove myself even when I don’t need to. I mean hell, the whole reason I wanted to do a city tour is to show you how much I love Chicago.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.” Applejack responds. “Why would you feel a need to prove yourself?”

“Eagerness to impress, I guess? I don’t know really.”

“Then what?” Applejack asks back, an assertive seriousness leaving her mouth.

“I guess the best way to put it is, “having grown up needing to shout just to be heard has manifested itself to where I subconsciously show myself off, often rather loudly, to prove, mostly to myself, that I’ve made it. I’m everything I wanted to be and was expected to be. A pilot as per me’ own wishes, and financially secure with millions, per the family.”

“So, you’re compensating?” Apple Bloom asks rather naïvely.

“If you want to call it that. I guess I project my own perceived insufficiency onto others, and for that if it’s off-putting, I can only apologize.”

“It’s alright, sugar cube.” Her older sister then responds with the voice of a mother. “If I may be honest with you, when you look past all this,” she says pointing to me, implying some kind of façade, “at your core, you’re a really nice and genuinely all around good person. You just have a troubled past that you’re letting define and control you.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” I say just as the Mediterranean Bread for both our tables arrives. “This is Mediterranean Bread. As you can see, it’s pizza dough brushed with butter, olive oil and Mediterranean herbs.”

As each of us dig away at it, one piece is left. None oblige until Apple Bloom finishes hers, to which I encourage her to take the last piece. She declines, saving room for the pie, but no one else takes, so I send it to the other table, where Pinkie goes for it. The waiters quickly bus our dishes as conversation from Applejack and Rarity takes hold.

Apple Bloom and her grandmother then start talking as Sweetie Belle surfs her phone. Oh how I wish I could have a cigarette to soothe my nerves.

Before too long, our pies arrive, and immediately we all dig in after the all-clear has been given, that is to say, after certain people decide to snap pics and upload. Suddenly, my phone blows up with tags in social media posts. Apparently, because it’s the day before the holiday, the optimal algorithm time to upload is now, or something like that. Whatever the case, plenty of posts from various accounts tag me in them along with a wave of follow and friend requests. All accepted and followed back, we dig in happy, hungry, and content.

As we dig in and chat between tables, I enjoy myself watching the others enjoy themselves. As I sip away, that voice in the back of my head still faintly shouts, “you’ve failed yourself! You’re not good enough.”

As that voice rises in volume, I listen in on some conversations and check my phone. Some family group chats go off with holiday well wishes, but for obvious reasons, I can’t say anything. Nevertheless, I smile knowing that the family still has some semblance of togetherness, even though I was the only one who ever really reached out to them. I don’t regret that decision, but it does kind of pain me to see that my own siblings give the cold shoulder to blood relatives, especially because I got so much stink from my siblings and parents for even associating with that part of the family.

Before I rant on too much about that, I get the bill. A total of just over $350, which includes a hearty tip for large party outside of normal gratuities. Rosalina’s is exactly the same, so after she covers, I reimburse her, which she refuses, so I give the money to Lockie, who promises to get it to her. As thanks, and for his airfare, I give him money of his too. He also refuses despite my insistence, which he finally obliges to, mostly to shut me up.

When we leave, the restaurant noticeably emptier now, but the queue breathing some sighs of relief, we pile in and head for home. Tomorrow, my favorite pizza place is holding a special for us at the holiday, by my gracious request and a handful of opportunistic staff who would love overtime pay at a considerable premium for working on a holiday.

That night, as everyone slowly retires for the night, Lockie and Rosalina go to their condo, so I get ready for bed now. Doing everything in my power to silence the voices in my head for good, I end up one of the last to retire. After routine maintenance and a hearty amount of sleep aid, I pass the heck out, knowing that tomorrow will be a good one.

Author's Note

Eisenhower is I-290.

Jane Byrne is where Kennedy meets Eisenhower just west of Grant Park. South of this interchange, I-90/I-94 is known as Dan Ryan until I-57.