My Kind of Town

"Cloud Gate" is it's true name, but everyone calls it "The Bean"

During our time house hunting in St. Louis, we wondered what it would be like to live “in the city”. We both share the same romantic notion that city life is somehow cool, hip and more active than suburban life. Raising our kids in the city would magically turn them into uber-trendy, enlightened, and hyper-aware adults. That was the thought, anyways. It didn't pan out for us to find our urban homestead in St. Louis. So, our time in Chicago would be the perfect opportunity to explore living the metropolitan lifestyle.

First up was utilizing Chicago's efficient and abundant mass transit system. A train ride on the “L” to downtown would make us feel like real city folk. We jumped on the Blue Line to Millennium Park and sat back to enjoy the 30 minute ride. The train was filled with commuters. People headed to work. To school. Home from the airport. To them it was just a way to travel. To us, it was akin to a ride at Disney World. People packed everywhere. Sitting. Standing. Traveling underground. Above ground. Then, as if on cue, a crazy, old woman got on board muttering loudly to herself. For fifteen minutes straight she mumbled nonsensically before getting off. City life is so cool.

They loved the architecture of the "diamond building"

Giordano's Famous Stuffed Pizza

One of the things we want to make a point of doing in our travels, is enjoying the local foods. Our trip to the Windy City wouldn't be complete without some deep dish, Chicago style pizza. While walking around the city (that's what urbanites do) we stopped by for a bite of this gut busting dish. The key to Chicago pizza is not just a deep crust, it's the sauce. It goes on top of the cheese. Crust, then cheese (tons of it), then sauce. We left feeling as stuffed as the pizza.

Goodbye Chicago. Thanks for making us feel cool and hip, if only for a short while.

Special thanks to our Chicago hosts: The De La Cruz Family

The Wizard of Oz Train

      Next year is the 75^th anniversary of the greatest family film ever made. To kick off the celebrations early, MGM studios has released the film, remastered in IMAX 3D. Also, for the first time, the Andrew Lloyd Weber musical adaptation will tour North America. All across the country we are starting to be inundated with Dorothy, Toto and the gang. Here in southeastern Missouri, the St. Louis Iron Mountain & Southern Railway paid homage to this endearing classic with a Wizard of Oz themed train ride.

Miss Gulch rode after us, yelling for "That dog!!!"

     The region's only full size passenger train took us on a three hour ride, while characters acted out parts of the movie, and mingled with the riders.

"I'll get you my pretty."

The train was quaint, and everything had a small town feel to it. The girls bought some homemade cupcakes from the snack bar, colored pictures for a coloring contest, and enjoyed talking about one of their favorite movies. The costumed characters were pleasant, but I had to keep reminding myself, “This isn't Disney.” I hadn't noticed it before, but we were suffering from a Disney hangover. Our expectations had been tainted. Everything down there was so perfect and seamless, that now, anything else paled in comparison. The Disney characters were... well... they WERE the actual people. That was Belle. That was really Minnie. That was the actual Eeyore. They were perfectly convincing. Flawless. And, while it is unfair to expect other entertainers to live up to those impossibly high standards, this definitely wasn't Disney.

     We stopped halfway through the ride at the fictitious old time town of Iron Mountain Junction. As we stepped off to stretch our legs, Norah states “Look, the tree is smoking.” At first I thought, “Oh they must have a fire burning somewhere in this little village as part of the show. That will be nice. Why does she think the smoke is coming from the trees? Hmmmm...” She said it again. This time with more purpose. “Look, Poppa, the tree is smoking.” I looked closer. Indeed, right there was the man dressed up as the Angry Apple Tree, puffing away on a cigarette. He waved at us with his one free limb, as we got off the train. The curtain had been lifted. This wasn't Disney.  Not that our kids had any delusions that any of these people were more than just actors. After all, Dorothy's roots aren't gray. The Tin Man's head was not made by Speedo. The Wizard wasn't 30 years younger than Dorothy. They knew. Yet, in Orlando, the magic of Disney had made believers of all of us. That was really Cinderella. That was her actual castle where she lived. Of course, we never caught her in the middle of a smoke break, sucking down a quick heater.