Anyway, it took me few days to get over new biorhythm and with that to get back to my regular cycle of going to sleep way too late and suffering badly getting up in the morning.

Another thing which guaranteed to tear apart any kind of routine was the fact that the hotel I stayed in was proudly 100% smoke-free. But, humans being highly adaptable animals I got used to it somehow. True, it doesn’t help that it’s cold and windy outside which doesn’t really make ideal conditions for smoking on the street. At some point I had to buy hand cream (how metrosexual it sounds) because due to the combination of low temperatures and wind I developed bunch of small sores on my hands which looked quite ugly.

Overall, the sad fact was that since 2008 there was no smoking allowed in closed spaces in Chicago.

Work itself was nothing special and one could even argue about the rationale behind coming to Chicago in the first place but that’s a whole different story. The fact that it took me about 5 minutes of leisurely stroll to get to work was super convenient and then I’d find myself in front of the huge skyscraper where the office was while across the street was even higher one – Trump Tower. To my disappointment, the Hollywood scenario where a guy from some remote country bumps into an elderly gentleman with a funny hairdo, they develop a friendly relationship and soon after that the  gentleman says “You are hired” after which aforementioned guy ends up sitting in a corner office with a view overlooking three neighboring federal states, counting his six-digit salary whole day – never happened.

Instead, day after day I’d be going to the office where there were a lot more people sitting than, I’m pretty sure, some safety regulations would allow.

For the first few days it was actually quite fun because having a colleague there with me, I had a rare opportunity to spend time with someone whom I could have a dinner or grab a beer with. If, on top of that, it’s someone you can have a normal communication with as opposed to forced conversation one is often forced to endure, even better. That meant that at least for a short period of time I could avoid somewhat sad routine of eating alone in one fast-food joint or another which is something I regularly practice since it requires least time and effort.

The added benefit of the hotel we stayed in was the location which was in the neighborhood packed with restaurants, bars and clubs so we could enjoy not only food and drinks but some music as well.

The colleague’s idea was to listen to some jazz and since there was a jazz club right around the corner and, as usual, it was cold and windy outside, it seemed like a good idea. Frankly, it looked to me like a fairly bland version of a jazz club (says the guy who’s been in exactly one such club in his life and it was some 20 years ago, and in Zagreb). The cover cost $10 and the beer, I asked for domestic one, was expensive but to my untrained taste buds, pretty good. There was of course a house band providing musical background and for about an hour or so that was it.

Earlier that day, while walking around I noticed a sign “Blue Chicago” so I suggested we give it a try hoping it’s some kind of blues club. With all due respect to jazz, my first musical association with Chicago would always be blues, not jazz, although again I’m hardly an authority on the subject.

We coughed up another $10 each to get into that club but this time the whole place looked more authentic. It was dark, crowded and … a dump really. The moment you get in, you face a guy who kind of bends the space with his stature (or in a more realistic definition, throws people around). That’s the only explanation I can think of for the fact he is actually moving in there. The thing is, the place is really crowded, while he is really, really wide. To get some idea of his appearance you’d have to be a fan of American TV series, specifically “The Wire” because the moment I saw him my first association was the “Proposition Joe” character. All in all, the guy didn’t speak but instead looked at us, waved to follow him and then waddling slowly through the crowd took us to a bar, “displacing” poor souls who found themselves in his path.

We stayed here longer than in a jazz club simply because it was much more fun. The house band was good although I couldn’t shake the feeling it was all part of the tourist attraction. But then they invited their guest to the stage, a lady of fairly advanced age and probably not the best health, looking like she just came from a sparring session with some heavy-weight beast. All that became irrelevant once she started performing because not only she had a really good voice but she also had an impossible to ignore surplus of weight which didn’t prevent her from the stage performance worthy of 25-year old (details here and here).

All of this was happening on Friday so we still had part of Saturday to enjoy walking around town, freezing our asses off, especially on the Lake Michigan where at some point after spending too much time taking photos in a wind even stronger than downtown I got seriously concerned that if I accidentally hit something with my fingers I’d get a new nickname, something like “Sinisa-four/three…no – fingers”.

So, it was fun having a company, certainly very unusual for my business travels, but that Saturday afternoon my colleague packed his bags and flew back home, leaving me alone in windy Chicago.

All alone.

So sad.

I’m kidding of course because I had rest of the weekend ahead of me along with the best part of this job (apart from obscene amounts of money and easy women crazy about consultants :-)) – exploring a new city.