so-called adult life
You ought to wait till your really a so-called adult to make that call. I'm not saying you have to get wasted, its just that a lot of stuff is not open till your 21. Sure, Chicago has some pretty buildings. Big deal, its nice but who cares? What Chicago really has is..... deep in some of the not-so-good to total ghetto neighborhoods are the bars that your Dan and his buddy John went to when they were in Second City to hear the real blues that they fell so in love with. That is the real Chicago, the place that Robert Johnson wrote "Sweet Home Chicago" about in the first place. The home of Chess Records and Buddy Guy. Sure, you saw a tall building, but you have not really been in Chicago till your out at 3-4 am, deep in South Side, listening to some guy just play his ass off and not really caring that the joint is about 90% African-American, and your just a white boy - a long, long way from home. If nothing else, that whole subtext in the real blues about being alienated comes home pretty hard.
Bars, in both SF, and in Chicago (were they tend to prefer the word 'tavern') are not places to get drunk, but they are places to be adults - without the kids hanging out to annoy us. They are neighborhood hang outs, they are were people meet to talk, watch the Cubs or Giants, argue about politics and the rest. As it turns out, most bars do not like drunks very much. More trouble than they are worth. Really, if you can't hold your liquor, stay home. But I have a few where I'm very much 'one of the regulars.' I dress up (and I'm the only CD ever in there, I'm sure about that) but then again, that's me, the resident CD, even when I'm just in work drag.) One in particular is a place where Ginsberg, Kerouac, Ferlinghetti, and William Saroyan hung out and wrote in. Where Bob Dylan and Neil Cassady hung out when they were in town. As a history kind of person, its just the atmosphere I crave, especially when it has not changed at all that much since then. I don't even think its been dusted since the late sixties. Hell, it is one of only two bars I know of in town that does not have a TV. So I can write to my hearts content. And what I wear does not matter, who, what, or how I define myself does not matter, what matters is --- can you carry on a reasonably intelligent conversation? The rest is just subject matter.