Chicago. The third largest city in the US. A mere 400 miles from my home base in Minneapolis. A city I love. A city I should get to more often considering the relative ease. Last year I was able to spend time in The City of Wind twice. One time with my adult partner in crime. Once with my youngest daughter (and eternal sidekick).
March 21, 2014. I’m sipping on a beer as we go from truck to truck and cart to cart on a Friday around noon. We’re set to have lunch at the Atlanta Food Truck Park. It’s early spring, but the weather is quite nice compared to home. We finally decide on our first bite and head for that truck. The guy sticks his head out of the window and asks “are you day drinking?” I glanced down at my beer and then back to him, shrugging my shoulders I say “well, I’m on vacation.” He asks incredulously “and you chose Atlanta?”
This was one of the first real trips Shellie and I took. How we chose Atlanta is a little convoluted, but basically we had a week to travel. We decided to go to New Orleans, then we wisely thought maybe we didn’t need an entire week in New Orleans. So, where else could we go? Flights between MSY and ATL were cheap, so it was settled. Three and a half days in each.