Photos by Kevin Horan.

I’m safely back in Antigua now, made it a few days ago. The weather is hot again, and work has slowed slightly but is still consistent. I’ve also been doing a little bit of riding on my own, which will receive more attention in a later post. No, today I’d like to reflect a little bit on my time in Chicago. Not the whole time, mind you, that would be as excruciating to write as it would be to read, and I will spare all of us. Last Friday night I had a rare opportunity to spend a night in theTrump International Hotel & Tower in Chicago. This was an incredible experience, one that I don’t imagine I will repeat any time soon, and I would hate to give the impression that I am in any way ungrateful. That said, I couldn’t help but make a few observations.

The Trump Towers are at once a symbol of the enterprise and success that has accompanied development in the United States since it’s inception, and yet another cobble in the road of excess that will eventually be her downfall. Before I begin, there were a few small, unavoidable things that rubbed me the wrong way. For instance, I don’t like having the door held for me. It makes me feel weird. Certainly, if I’m carrying an armoire or something of the like it’s a welcome courtesy, but if I’m simply coming or going, I would just as soon do it myself. I feel the same way escalators and those moving walkways in the airport. Perhaps they have an application, but for me it’s not right. Aside from a loving and well-bred family and a devoted corps of friends, I don’t really have anything going for me. That is, I’m penniless and virtually unemployed. But I do have my health, and until I join the ranks of the invalid and the dilapidated, I will walk, I will open my own doors, and I will put on and take off my own jacket, thank you very much. I digress, and I apologize. The Trump Towers website describes their rooms as “sumptuous,” and if I tried I could not conceive of a better choice. The room was an intricate mesh of glamour and gluttony, and I’ve done my best here to unweave it for you here:

Glamour This is the view from our room, overlooking the Tribune Building, the Chicago River (in your eye, nature), and Lake Michigan:

And here is the pamphlet that describes the options:

It’s slightly difficult to tell from the photo, but the page is entitled “water library” in trendy font and all lower case letters, as if the bourgeois proprietors are above grammar and capitalization. It goes on to detail the selections, which range from $10-25 per bottle. The most expensive option is Bling, with which the bottle comes bedazzled with “genuine Swarovski crystals.”

Glamour: The rooms did come complete with a cocktail shaker and stainless ice bucket, which is, in a word, incredible.