Come on, baby don't you want to go, To the same old place, sweet home Chicago

I've been in Chicago for meetings this week. I fly out on Thursday, and my flight will be delayed because I'm leaving from O'Hare. Flights are not allowed to leave at there scheduled time from O'Hare -- ever. I think it's Homeland Security thing.

We were lucky with the weather this week. It's been warm, but not hot and muggy like you would expect June to be. There was a little drizzle, but nothing too severe. The skies really opened up on Wednesday night when I was half a block from my hotel. I got back to my room, kept the lights off, and watched the lighting zap across the sky.

We did got to a Cubs game. And, as you would expect, the lost. They were doing well for most of the game, but just fell apart in last innings. Brewers 8, Cubs 5.

But Wrigley is a great park. It's right in the middle of a neighborhood. If you've seen it on TV, you may have noticed the apartment buildings across the street. People have actually set up bleachers on the roofs so they can watch the games live without going to the park. Over the last 10 years, the roof tops have changed from neighbors holding parties and watching the games to corporate events.

The local seagulls also seem to be Cubs fans.

We had a great sunset while were at the park, too.

While I don't follow baseball with tremendous intensity, I have always been a Yankees fan. And I know in my heart that the reason the Red Sox won when they did was because they cheated. The rigged the games. I'm not sure how they did it, but they did.

But I have never been to Yankee stadium. I've been to Shea (Mets), Safeco (Mariners), and now Wrigley (Cubs).

Wrigley has great hot dogs, but I couldn't quite get into the beer. The have Budweiser and Old Style at the park. Since I have some taste, I opted for the Old Style. Which was ok. It was definitely a beer. The kind of beer you might drink in a bar where you are likely to get into a fight. Or, in my case, duck under a table to avoid a fight. And to not spill my beer.

But living in Seattle has apparently turned me into a beer snob, in addition to a coffee snob.

Out side the stadium, they have a great statue of long time cubs broadcaster Harry Caray.

While Tim and I were waiting for a table at Pizzeria Uno, we wandered down Michigan AVE to the Chicago River.

Dinner at Pizzeria Uno was good. The sausage, perperoni, and cheese pie was thick, dense, and tasty. But despite what they say on their menu, they had no Pizza here. Because there are very few places you can actually get pizza west of the Hudson River.