chicago

  • The Story of O’Hare Airport

    Sent to me via a friend, an interesting bit of Chicago History:

    Many years ago, Al Capone virtually owned Chicago . Capone wasn’t famous for anything heroic. He was notorious for enmeshing the windy city in everything from bootlegged booze and prostitution to murder.

    Capone had a lawyer nicknamed “Easy Eddie.” He was Capone’s lawyer for a good reason. Eddie was very good! In fact, Eddie’s skill at legal maneuvering kept Big Al out of jail for a long time.

    To show his appreciation, Capone paid him very well. Not only was the money big, but Eddie got special dividends, as well. For instance, he and his family occupied a fenced-in mansion with live-in help and all of the conveniences of the day. The estate was so large that it filled an entire Chicago City block.

    Eddie lived the high life of the Chicago mob and gave little consideration to the atrocity that went on around him.

    Eddie did have one soft spot, however. He had a son that he loved dearly. Eddie saw to it that his young son had clothes, cars, and a good education. Nothing was withheld. Price was no object.

    And, despite his involvement with organized crime, Ed die even tried to teach him right from wrong. Eddie wanted his son to be a better man than he was.

    Yet, with all his wealth and influence, there were two things he couldn’t give his son; he couldn’t pass on a good name or a good example.

    One day, Easy Eddie reached a difficult decision. Easy Eddie wanted to rectify wrongs he had done.

    He decided he would go to the authorities and tell the truth about Al “Scarface” Capone, clean up his tarnished name, and offer his son some semblance of integrity. To do this, he would have to testify against The Mob, and he knew that the cost would be great. So, he testified.

    Within the year, Easy Eddie’s life ended in a blaze of gunfire on a lonely Chicago Street . But in his eyes, he had given his son the greatest gift he had to offer, at the greatest price he could ever pay. Police removed from his pockets a rosary, a crucifix, a religious medallion, and a poem clipped from a magazine.

    The poem read:

    “The clock of life is wound but once, and no man has the power to tell just when the hands will stop, at late or early hour. Now is the only time you own. Live, love, toil with a will. Place no faith in time. For the clock may soon be still.”

    STORY NUMBER TWO

    World War II produced many heroes. One such man was Lieutenant Commander Butch O’Hare.

    He was a fighter pilot assigned to the aircraft carrier Lexington in the South Pacific.

    One day his entire squadron was sent on a mission. After he was airborne, he looked at his fuel gauge and realized that someone had forgotten to top off his fuel tank.

    He would not have enough fuel to complete his mission and get back to his ship.

    His flight leader told him to return to the carrier. Reluctantly, he dropped out of formation and headed back to the fleet.

    As he was returning to the mother ship, he saw something that turned his blood cold; a squadron of Japanese aircraft was speeding its way toward the American fleet.

    The American fighters were gone on a sortie, and the fleet was all but defenseless. He couldn’t reach his squadron and bring them back in time to save the fleet. Nor could he warn the fleet of the approaching danger. There was only one thing to do. He must somehow divert them from the fleet.

    Laying aside all thoughts of personal safety, he dove into the formation of Japanese planes. Wing-mounted 50 caliber’s blazed as he charged in, attacking one surprised enemy plane and then another. Butch wove in and out of the now broken formation and fired at as many planes as possible until all his ammunition was finally spent.

    Undaunted, he continued the assault. He dove at the planes, trying to clip a wing or tail in hopes of damaging as many enemy planes as possible, rendering them unfit to fly.

    Finally, the exasperated Japanese squadron took off in another direction.

    Deeply relieved, Butch O’Hare and his tattered fighter limped back to the carrier.

    Upon arrival, he reported in and related the event surrounding his return. The film from the gun-camera mounted on his plane told the tale. It showed the extent of Butch’s daring attempt to protect his fleet. He had, in fact, destroyed five enemy aircraft
    This took place on February 20, 1942 , and for that action Butch became the Navy’s first Ace of W.W.II, and the first Naval Aviator to win the Medal of Honor.

    A year later Butch was killed in aerial combat at the age of 29. His home town would not allow the memory of this WW II hero to fade, and today, O’Hare Airport in Chicago is named in tribute to the courage of this great man.

    So, the next time you find yourself at O’Hare International, give some thought to visiting Butch’s memorial displaying his statue and his Medal of Honor. It’s located between Terminals 1 and 2.

    So what do these two stories have to do with each other?

    Butch O’Hare was “Easy Eddie’s” son.

    Pretty neat, huh?

    Prior to being named for O Hare, the old designation of the airport was old orchard, hence its 3 letter code ORD.

  • Thank Goodness, Thanksgiving-Part 2

    Welcome Back!

    When last we left our intrepid adventurers, they were shooting up a turkey like a heroin addict


    But what came after? Continuing the preparation, off we go!

    It was time for me to step up to the plate and get cracking on the stuffing before the dish ran away with the spoon

    I chose to put a mushroom and herb twist on the classic dish. Above are the more traditional celery and onion, finely chopped

    Those would be croatian sage, california parsley flakes, marjoram, and hawaiian red sea salt (i liked the color)
    Throw it together with some butter, and crimini mushrooms that have been pre-roasted with granulated garlic, mix it up with some ciabatta and foccacia bread and you get…

    The non-cooked version!
    Of course, the speed and ease with which this was prepared was due in part to the help of my sous chef and our late arrived final guest
     
    Merlin, the kitchen magician, second maker of deserts and appetizers. So while we let the ladies get to work on their sweets




    The guys settled down to relax and let our dishes cook

    I almost forgot to show my mascot

    This little feller arose out of fast, but incomplete knife skills. Tremendous loss of points on technique had I been on top chef. Let’s check back in with our ladies. How you doing wendy?

    Hmm…why dont we give he a little more time to peel those potatoes while we have some more to drink

    Okay, how is wendy doing now?

    Much better, but what is she making?


    Ohhhh. Sweet potato fries!

    And here are some chile peppers with peanut sauce from merlin.

    Table decided to help set the mood. Then it was time to get our drink on while all the dishes were slowly finishing up and being set out.

    Alright, so let’s go.

    Sweet Potato fries with an avocado corn salsa

    At one point, the robot’s circuits broke down and she had to be rebooted.

    Who needs air guitar when you have hair guitar. Of course this led to a who is hairiest competition

    Which I lost


    Herb and Salt Encrusted Turkey, no brining necessary

    Roasted Mushroom and Herb Ciabatta/Foccacia Stuffing

    Duck Fat Fries

    Ground Turkey and Dill stuffed grapevine leaves in lemon brine

    Since The food’s almost ready, why dont we say grace

    Okay, admittedly we may have been a bit tipsy by this point


    Okay, we were drunk. But after the meal, we…erm…well, continued drinking

    At some point during the night, we discovered the BEST. GAME. EVER.


    It consisted of taking that wheeled chair you see tipped over from round one, having one person sit in it, and another person push it as fast as they can down that long hallway you see behind jayan. Timed. To see who could do it the fastest without banging into the walls, injuring both the rider and the pushee. Oh and trying to stop before this happened.

    But look how much fun we had. When the chair was eventually taken away because we were too drunk. (how drunk is too drunk…allow the next photo to demonstrate)

    I thought this was perfectly centered. SMILE!
    We eventually resorted to running down that same hallway on our socks and seeing how far we could glide. This also resulted in injuries and laughs. More things happened, but I dont remember most of them, so why dont I leave you with the group photos

    The next morning, the two of us who didnt have clinics or lectures to go to got up and did dishes

    This is nowhere near everything, just everything we could fit on the table. That concludes the thanksgiving post, hope yours was as good as mine!

  • Thank Goodness, Thanksgiving-Part 1

    Back from my food coma at last, and with all the pictures off the camera and on to the computer, I can finally tell you all the story of Thanksgiving. Well, the one I attended anyway. In an effort not to utterly destroy slow-loading times, I will endeavor to break this into multiple parts

    This year marked a fairly special thanksgiving, as it is the final year of med school, and come july, the friends I have spent the last 5 years with will be dispersed to the four corners of the states, and some may even go to Canada, America’s hat. So we wanted to step up our game and a few of us decided to throw a gourmet meal, complete with endangered species centerpiece. But more on that later…first, lets introduce the cast of characters.

    This is table. Table helped out throughout the day by storing supplies, acting as a prep surface, and eventually holding the finished product of everyone present. Thanks table!

    Now on to introduce the real people who made the meal what it was in every sense of the word


    Wendy, a fellow capoeirista from college turned tooth fairy dental student, mixmaster of potatoes
       
    Ritika, chief decorator and baker of pie

    Tony, Thai Knife-wielding fry cook and first assist on turkey preparation. Also the host for this years shindig.

    Yours truly, the designated photographer for the majority of the shots, along with stuffing imagineer, and dolma creator, bringing the ethnic touch to this American holiday.

    Before I continue, I should mention we had all arrived at Tony’s the night before, and spent the entire day cooking at his place. This means breakfast too

    That’s right, homemade egg mcmuffins with both real and fakin bacon

    Cheers! On the right, the mysterious member of the party is Jayan, mastermind of the menu and tsar of turkey.
    Onward to preparation!

    The first rule of this Thanksgiving was that everything had to be made from scratch…no half assing. As sultan of stuffing, I opted for a ciabatta and foccacia loaf. Here is the ciabatta freshly cut to prove there was no cheating
    Note to those at home. Cutting bread into one inch cubes is more difficult than the cooking shows make it look, even with a bread knife.

    French Freedom Fries are a classic americana dish, and Tony set to work on carving them with a vengeance

    Of course, while we were prepping the food, Table was getting all made up for later

    Table with Chief Decorator Ritika

    This is an artsy shot. You will notice more of these as the participants begin to imbibe more alcohol over the course of the day

    Table’s kid brother wanted in on the act


    Seasonings to be stuffed in the turkey (more on that in a moment)


    In keeping with our gourmet Thanksgiving, this year’s bird was a heirloom turkey. Heirloom or heritage turkeys are a variety of domestic turkey which retains characteristics no longer present in the mass produced poultry raised for consumption today

    With the advent of factory farming turkeys were selectively bred for increasingly larger size, focusing especially on the production of breast meat. Beginning in the 1920s broad-breasted fowl began to replace all other types of turkey in commercial production.

    The goal in turkey farming became the production of the maximum amount of breast meat at the lowest possible cost. As a result of this selective breeding, 70% of the weight of mass market turkeys is in their breast. Consequently, the birds are so heavy that they are completely incapable of reproducing without artifical insemination and they reach such extreme weights so quickly their overall development fails to keep pace with their rapidly accruing muscle mass, resulting in severe immune system, cardiac, respiratory and leg problems

    Unlike turkeys bred for industrial agriculture, heritage turkeys can do the wild thing without human intervention, have a relatively long lifespan and a much slower growth rate. Chefs, farmers and food critics contend that heritage turkey meat tastes better. Despite increasing interest in heritage turkeys, they are still in the minority, and most heritage breeds are endangered in some respect. So we ate an endangered species. GO US

    And now that I have taken a moment to educate you, I shall remind you of our immaturity

    Yes, we gave each other turkey flavored booster shots.

    And with the bird trussed up like a BDSM fetishist, we began injecting it with the true essence of flavor!

    Meanwhile, table was just about done.

    More to come next post, loyal viewers!

  • Falling into Daylight Savings

    Best email ever:

    “Hello, I am Ministry of the Treasury of the Republic of America. My country has had crisis that has caused the need for large transfer of funds of 800 billion dollars US. If you would assist me in this transfer, it would be most profitable to you. Please reply with all of your bank account, IRA and college fund account numbers and those of your children and grandchildren to wallstreetbailout@treasury.gov so that we may transfer your commission for this transaction. After I receive that information, I will respond with detailed information about safeguards that will be used to protect the funds”

    Ooh those nigerians must be so mad at us now for stealing their scam.

    XXXXXX: My mom got me a toilet brush for my birthday.
    coffeeweasel: have you been using it?
    XXXXXX: Well, yeah, but it hasn’t been working too well. In fact, I think I may just go back to using paper
    coffeeweasel: *facepalm*

    evilada: girls dont work like baseball
    evilada: if they did, everyone would cheer if you stole second base when no one was looking
    evilada: and thats the complete opposite of what happens, trust me

    And since I haven’t done a photo post in a while, here are some last minute pics of fall in Chicago, a day before the temp dropped from 70 to 40.

  • Hidden Chicago 2

    Another stop I had to make before i left chicago for who knows how long was the cultural center, or the fake library, as i like to call it. For more on that, check backlogs for when I was studying for USMLE Step 1, and saw a large building marked, LIBRARY, but then had nothing library related inside, as it had not been a library for over 100 years.

    Kalima this, indiana jones!


    If i ever have to have my leg replaced for any reason, i am getting the bones made into a cane like this one


    Tammy lost her leg…oh noes!

    Tell me this wouldnt give you nightmares…

    And while I know the ceiling is referring to francis, I just love that this immortal pork product is embedded in the ceiling of this building


    Chess in the park along the lakefront

    So long for now chicago…for the next year, you are no longer my home, but just another awesome city.

    Road trip pics coming soon

  • Hidden Chicago

    Okay i have been MIA the last few days due to finishing packing up my apartment and leaving Chicago to return to sunny california…at least for a few odd months here and there. If you noticed I was gone, hey, Great! It means you love me, or at least i entertain you from time to time. In the meanwhile, here are some of the things I accomplished while I was AWOL from the internets

    The Lily Garden next to the zoo


    The


    Had to at least swing by the zoo one more time, right?
    Now, BEHOLD THE FUTURE OF LAWN


    And the hidden treasure of the nature museum, the butterfly garden

    One of my friends absolutely detests butterfiles. And she brings up a good argument. Basically, they are flying bugs, but everyone gives them a free pass because they are all blinged out. To top it all off, other bugs will try to avoid you, but butterflies get all up in your business thinking they can land on you just because they are good looking. Like a homeless person gets an armani suit and all of a sudeen people go, well yeah he does smell and keep asking me for change, but he looks FABULOUS!

    ANyway, last few chicago pics next post and then roadtrip america 2008!

  • Drunk of the Irish

    At least one Chicago teenager believes that aluminum foil is a fine substitute for a condom.

    It’s ok, go scream and think about how you don’t even like when aluminum foil is in your mouth.

    But enough about my remaining 2 days of ob/gyn. Lets get on to the St Patricks day festivities!


    NOOOO! I SAID SAINT PATRICKS DAY. I CANT ESCAPE


    the river before


    okay enough of that. now lets move on to the drinking


    tonys face here is just a classic.


    So how drunk was I? as always, the correct answer is, i cant remember. but here is a handy video!

  • Brrrr.

    I can’t stop complaining about how cold it is–and luckily, it’s
    not just me. It really is freakishly cold. Tomorrow’s
    going to be the record-breakingly chilly: “The predicted high of 9
    degrees at O’Hare would be the coldest this late in a cold season since
    a 3 degree high on Feb. 21, 1963.” The entire area is under a wind
    chill advisory starting this evening because polar gusts are coming our
    way via Canada. According to the advisory, “the colder air will be
    ushered in on northwest winds near 25 mph… which will lower wind chills into the 20 to 30 below zero range late tonight and Wednesday morning.”

    Oh, and it might snow tonight

    damn you old man winter. I am seriously reconsidering my stance on euthanasia.

  • Death Wings

    So I had the Death Wings.

    The Challenge

    The waiver we had to sign to be allowed to eat the wings


    Tony, Buch, and I ready for the challenge

    All the necessary supplies. A firemans hat, some beer, and the rescue bell. If it gets too hot, you ring the bell and you are brought…
     
    A tiny little tray with a shot of milk, some ice cream, sugary cream and a slice of bread. So as you can see, I was eating the wings without a safety net (new readers: i am HORRIBLY lactose intolerant…possibly even lactose rascist)

    chaser: who could possibly need this?

    A couple wings in….he could

    And how did I fare? well, i managed to pack away 4 of the wings in the basket, with the other 6 by buch and tony.

    okay, so i worked up a bit of a sweat, and maybe my face felt a LITTLE tingly and numb, but overall did i think they were spicy? not very…

    well, okay, maybe just a little bit. I resorted to this after i had chugged 2 beers at the table to douse the fire in my mouth from the combined wings and habanero pepper i ate straight following said wings. Mind you, one of those beers was not even mine, it was simply liberated from buch when i couldnt take the heat.

    Seriously though, the wings WERE spicy, but not as much as I had expected them to be…after all, i still have yet to finish Orochon’s special #2 ramen, and yet i could have easily polished off a basket of these wings.

    To celebrate our acommplishent, the bar staff, took our picture for the wall of bravery and gave us a pin that said we did it. I wore my firemans hat the rest of the day as we wandered up and down michigan avenue

    The end of this culinary adventure…what else lies in store for The Josh in 2008?

  • Critical Mass

    As you may or may not be aware, in my spare time, I enjoy cycling. On a real bike, not a stationary one that goes nowhere. Also, because I have no instinct for self preservation, I cycle through the streets. I am that guy on the bicycle holding up the traffic lanes because you are too nice and/or scared to drive around me and risk me denting your mercedes.

    Not that moving traffic is the only thing I have to worry about. The sound of a car door opening in front of you is similar to the sound of a gun being cocked. You know it wont end well for anyone.

    Anyhoo, This weekend was a monthly event in chicago I have been meaning to attend since I moved downtown. Namely, Critical Mass. Critical Mass occurs the last friday of every month, regardless of weather. Thousands (no joke!) of cyclists gather together at daley plaza, and then take back the streets, cycling throughout chicago to wherever the months endpoint is to party. It is not a race, though there are those who go faster than others. It is not a political movement, though many agendas participate, not the least of which is anti-car. It is not social networking, though you meet many folks while riding. It is simply a bunch of people coming together to ride their bikes because frankly, they can.

    Note: These pics can in NO WAY accurately represent the sheer number of people who participated. Main streets were literally so clogged that at times cyclists had to walk straddling their bikes simply because we could not acieve enough momentum even to balance


    All sorts come out of the woodwork for this event


    And once we get started, traffic literally stops. It has no choice, for the sheer volume of cyclists has reached a critical mass that cannot be ignored


    (^movie reference^-can you catch it?)


    You can see the lone car trapped in an unending river of cyclists. Poor guy was told by most of us to turn his car off, he wasnt going anywhere for a while.

    The ride lasted about 3 hours, going back and forth across the city, high fiving motorists stuck like the one above, waving to people who honked their support, and yelling HAPPY FRIDAY to anyone who would listen. We even had a marching band!


    Well, you get the idea

    I also set a new personal record for cycling-this trip around the city covered 32 miles in one go. I am sitting here typing this because I cannot actually feel my legs anymore.

    Time to oktoberfest the rest of my weekend up!

    SHoutOut:
    DamnSting: You live in SB now, get yo’self a bike!