And so we reach our final destination. It’s a great big town on a great big lake.

We were slightly concerned they’d closed for business:

But no! All was as it should be. And Karen jumped for joy.

We headed straight for the Navy Pier, stretching out into Lake Michigan and giving a stellar view of the city. Dom decided he owned everything South of the pier, and then got all proprietorial about the North side too.

Before long, we were hitting the jazz clubs. And the fizz. The end of the night got slightly messy, but before it did, we had some larks, by George. And most of them were at Andy’s.

This place has exactly the sort of vibe you want from a Chicago jazz club, and although it was rather empty when we first arrived, it filled up within minutes and the atmosphere was soon rocking.

Mind you, as we mentioned, things went downhill, and Karen’s attempts to dilute her fizz by adding Campari to it were not entirely successful. Eventually, she convinced herself she was on first name terms with the band. Here’s trumpeter Pharez Whitted, host of the late night jam session, with his pianist.

By the time the early hours were creeping in we decided we should slip out the side door. Besides, the barman had carelessly spilt all of his Campari. Into Karen’s glass. So we struck out to find our way blindly through downtown Chicago to wherever our hotel was…. (Which way? Pick a street. Bound to find it sooner or later. *Hic*).

Night night.