Birthdays, The Drake, Steaks, and a Scenic Skyline

I spent the majority of this past weekend at The Drake Hotel in Chicago, having a taste of the fabulous life. Let's just say that I didn't want to part with it. I think I need a new job and a hell of a lot more money.

My parents spent Saturday night at said Drake, with a window that overlooked bustling Michigan Avenue. As I walked up to meet them there, I could see my mother waving excitedly in her window as I manically waved back, at the risk of getting quizzical looks from the trendy ones on the sidewalk with me. I did.

It was so luxurious, relaxed, and I savored every minute. My brother and I joined my parents in their room, ordered some mid-day room service (ed. note: a crisp white gloved busboy wheeled in a round linen-covered table complete with a floral centerpiece, miniature ketchup bottles, and extra waters all for two orders of chicken fingers. Heaven) and watched the Green Bay game.

After sojourning to my apartment for some stiff drinks and present opening, we walked over to Morton's Steakhouse for a mouth-watering dinner.

When we arrived at our table, the menus said "Happy Birthday!!!" on them in honor of my dad and I.

Two Pomegranate Champagne cocktails, half of a lobster tail, one petite filet, slice of key lime pie, and $400 later, we left with our stomachs bursting. It was a very content full feeling if that makes any sense. Then my mother declared that she wanted to walk through a strip of 4 a.m. bars that are popular in the neighborhood just to "see where all the action is." Mind you, it's only 10 p.m. so the mayhem hadn't technically started, but I agreed to show her the warm up.

We walked past various locales with blasting rap and techno music, where bouncers like to verbally entice passersby with their deals, and shots prices. Imagine my mom walking down the street in her ginormous fur coat, dripping in old fashioned glamour, and hearing a doorman actually say to her "We have $3 shots, come on in!" It would have been like seeing Audrey Hepburn in a rap video. Just awkward for all involved parties.

I steered them back in the right direction, and we opted to visit the Signature Room Lounge at the top of the Hancock building. It was a perfect night to do this, as it was clear and the visibility was great. Turns out we got one of the best tables there- at the southwest corner overlooking all of downtown, and right next to the glass at that. Imagine how suave I felt (but kind of close to perspiring) as I pulled out my credit card and opened a tab for my family to drink. As I sipped my Signature Pear martini, I watched incoming planes land at Midway airport. It's funny to watch that. The beacons of light would turn in a circle, preparing to land, and would get closer and closer to the twinkling lights below only to just disappear.

Even Gary, Indiana, the armpit of America, looked relatively charming from my perch. I decided last night that I want to go to the Signature Room Lounge more often. And why not, people? Cocktails run about $13 bucks, but look at the experience as a whole. Feeling like a posh socialite for an evening is an inexplicably wonderful feeling that I'd like to replicate sometime very soon.

Back in the hotel room, I talked with my mother until 1:45 in the morning about the plans for my wedding. We both decided that I'm going to have my wedding reception there at The Drake, in one of the main ballrooms, and have all of the out of town guests stay there. We planned this down to the party buses that will take them to the church, the rehearsal dinner, etc. After 35 minutes or so of discussion my mom ended a particularly long-winded (great) wedding idea, with "Well, now all we need is a groom, the rest is figured out!" Yeah, I know, you don't have to say it. My mom and I are borderline crazy to seriously discuss and plan for an event that crucially depends on a person that doesn't exist. Or rather, does exist but hasn't found me yet. Ok I'll stop talking.

Pan over to my dad passed out on top of all of the covers, tie undone, mouth agape, and snoring. At that moment my mom and I started in on another glass of wine and made fun of my dad for not being able to hang late-night. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun with my parents. I then got walked home at 2 a.m. by my father, which was the weirdest and most random thing ever. I doubt that will ever happen again, but it was like I was back in high school, with my dad looking out for me and dropping me off places. Totally fun.

Today is Sunday and my brother could not join my family for brunch since he partied in a limo the night before, and went out in Wrigleyville until 5 a.m., therefore he missed the best brunch of his life.

My parents and I had brunch at The Drake Bros. steakhouse. Waiters would come every 20 minutes or so and refill my champagne flute. When we went up to get some food, we'd come back to fresh clams, shrimp, and crab claws on our table. There was Baked Alaska, a chocolate fountain, fresh seafood cocktails, spinach quiche, made to order omelets, mozzarella salad, pretzel bread, and cheese blintzes. I was in heaven. We got a seat next to the window that overlooks Michigan and got to watch people stroll by as we leisurely spent two hours daintily savouring the exquisite food. I actually got kind of buzzed because how was I supposed to say no to the waiter with the champagne? I wasn't about to turn that down. I think breakfast on Sundays should always come with champagne.

And now here I am, back at my apartment wistfully longing for the life I had all weekend.

As promised, my next post will consist of my childhood encounter with WWF wrestler Ric Flair and his crazy family, so hold on to your shorts, kids. I'll throw out some words that are a part of the story: applesauce, roller skates, wet, Oakley sunglasses, Siamese cats, shotgun. Get ready.