For Christmas, the Royal Indian Mounted Food Control Police made the trek from Oslo to Chicago returning to these United States after 7, almost 8, months. Because this flight got in late, and because of the capriciousness of the US Customs agents (It took well over 3 hours to get though the gauntlet of immigration the last time) I booked a hotel near the airport so I’d be ready to pick him up when he arrived, be comfortable in the meantime, and then we’d stay, rather than drive back, he’d avoid more travel after 12 hours of it, and we’d go eat somewhere nearby for dinner. When I asked him where or what he’d like to have for dinner, he decided after a .021 second pause, on pizza. Apparently they do not have pizza, or at least American-style pizza, in Norway.
I made the leisurely drive down to Chicago listening to Gloria Vanderbilt (great book) and checked in to the hotel expecting to spend the afternoon lounging listlessly, possibly taking a bath (no bathtub, so thankfully was spared that misery) and reading a book for one of my book clubs, Underground Railroad (ugh). And then, after a tearful reunion we’d head off to a sumptuous repast at a local and highly recommended Chicago-pizza place, Giordano’s. That was the plan. I arrived just fine. Got into my lounging attire and took out my book…fire alarm went off. I waited about 5 minutes to see if the alarm was going to stop, and it wasn’t, and firetrucks arrived although I didn’t see or smell smoke, I got dressed and commenced the trek down (9th floor). When I made it to the bottom the siren stopped. So I went out into the lobby to take the elevator back up but there was a huge crowd who’d already had that thought waiting so I walked back up. When I got to about the 8th floor the alarm sounded again, this time with a man’s voice urgently telling me to evacuate. So back down…to the 3rd floor when the man changed his mind and we got the all clear. So back up the stairs.
I barely had time to fluff a pillow when I got the text that The Royal Indian Mount Food Control Police had arrived and sailed through immigration. So that was that. We went out for pizza.
My experience with deep dish pizza is limited to Uno’s and Edwardo’s. Both of which I love unconditionally. Whoever thinks Giordano’s is the best ought to try Uno’s. I can tell you honestly Giordano’s was nothing to fly home for.