The Suite-est Thing

And before I forget - a word about networking.

Long have intelligent people known that it is, in fact, WHO you know that matters and not necessarily what you know. I know some stuff, it's good stuff. I know that Rudyard Kipling wrote the Jungle Book - but that doesn't get me a round of drinks in Maui, does it?

I know that Humphrey Bogart's last words were: "I should never have switched from Scotch to Martinis." But that doesn't get me free passage on the JFK Expressway outside Chicago, does it? Not even worth 80 cents, is it?

Hah.

However, I do know Josh Hogan. I was his best man at wedding number one, and I'm certain that I'm invited to wedding number two - and this time I'm insisting that HE is the best man. And I do know Jay Silber. Even though he and I have already discussed that I was in his "friend depth-chart" which didn't proffer me an invite to HIS nuptials, I would like to think that I've raised myself into a new level that would allow me access to, who knows, his retirement villa in southern France.

Now then, knowing Jay brought us to the northwestern suburbs of the Chicago area, brought us into a beautiful ranch-style home. Knowing Jay - and getting to know him better - made possible a big soft bed, a full evening of laughter and barbecued chicken, maps of Chicago, and two (count them, two) guide books to the ins-and-outs of Chicago - - books that were supposed to be sold at a recent garage sale but magically didn't sell.

Which reminds me, I owe Jay and Kate a dollar.

Knowing Josh Hogan is usually its own reward. His trials and tribulations from freshman year of college are enough to fill a database dedicated to the case studies of: The Effects of Alcohol and Poor Judgement on a Brand New Life Away From One's Parents. My favorite chapters include delivering phone books and hopping local trains shirtless and drunk in full view of several law enforcement officials. Knowing Josh now means something else. Before quitting his job at Marriott Josh put together a DHL package filled with signed Marriott Vouchers for half price rates. We've used these now in Connecticut, Boston and will be handing them in at several lesser known cities across the United States just as soon as we can get ourselves off the Eastern Half of the US.

Josh now works for Kimpton Hotels (www.kimptonhotels.com). They are everywhere and are awesome. . . in Chicago, the "friends and family" rate for the Hotel Allegro is around $100. That is already a fantastic discount from their regular fare - but something strange happens at check-in.

"Your SUITE isn't quite ready yet sir, but we'd be more than happy to hold on to your luggage while you go out and see the city for a few hours. Our concierge is at your disposal if you need to make any entertainment arrangements or dining reservations."

"Uh huh," I say. I was not expecting anyone to address me in this smooth-mannered tone as though I were dressed like this to avoid papparazzi, as though if my hat were lifted slightly from across my eyebrows someone somewhere in the lobby would rush me from my blind spot and need me to sigh his/her cleavage with a less than reliable ballpoint pen. It felt good. For one, I hadn't shaved in six days, was recovering from a cold and wearing a shirt covered in what I remember to be Mongolian Beef from P.F. Changs and a little bit of toothpaste.

Krissy and I walk away quietly and sit in the lobby, confused.

"Did he say suite? And do I have to go out and see Chicago dressed like this?" Krissy says to me in just above a whisper. We drive comfortably and we caffeinate regularly. This means baseball caps and no makeup, only marginally clean but definitely comfortable clothes, and Red Bull tremors in the eyes and fingertips.

"Josh must have done something, we didn't have a suite when I called this morning. We'll walk it off for a while, I guess."

We see the Bean, which for Chicagoans is a source of great polished pride. In real life, it is pretty incredible to see something that shiny, that big. The primitive kleptomaniac in me mumbles something like: "I want one of those for my own, my very own precious, my own seven-ton mirrored bean."

We drink cold beer and eat hot Chipotle - something that is missing from Maui but may be included once the enormous Barnes and Noble is constructed. Upon return to the Hotel Allegro, our suite on the 18^th floor is ready and is huge. I worry immediately that this suite will be bigger than the apartments we've come to research and in doing so will shadow any and all living opportunities with it's magnitude, comfort, and swanky-boutique-style decor. The suite comes complete with leopard and zebra patterned robes in which to lounge. . .

Thanks Josh.

I hadn't mentioned that we're fighting back colds with mechanically timed doses of Dayquil and Nyquil - a fact that will be important to understand when I describe in great detail how Krissy loses her equilibrium and nearly breaks her elbow, also achieving a faucet shaped bruise in the middle of her back. For now - back to the road.