We flew into Chicago last night for the wedding of the year ... at least in our family.
Check in wasn't exactly smooth at the Wnydham, but after 10 minutes we were handed the plastic card with the flimsy magnetic strip (oh how I miss keys), and off we headed for the 17th Floor, which happened to be the top floor no less.
In the words of white guys impersonating blacks guys "Damn". Our suite was almost as big as the crazy-ass suite I had in Hollywood earlier this week.
We are here for 3 days, and 3 different wedding events, so we hung up all of our clothes, and even put underwear in the drawers!
This morning we had breakfast with Anne's dad, and an hour later with her mom. They're not divorced, they just get up at different times!
With 2 breakfasts in my belly I returned to the room. No entry!
So I trudged back down to reception to be told 'someone' had booked the whole of the 17th floor, and we had to move our stuff out immediately.
I did my usual huffing and puffing, and got a $50 rebate. After re-packing and moving down to the 12th floor I noticed a bunch of 300lb brothers with diamond earstuds checking in.
And so it came to pass that the Seahawks fucked-over both me and Jay Cutler this coming weekend.