“Ferris Wheel” is kind of a bad word in our house, because of an incident that occurred four years ago.
Last time we visited Chicago, it was hot! We had walked for a few hours through the blazing sun, listening to Dad assure us that there was a surprise at the end of the journey, which I guess acted like fuel in our tank.
After meandering through the city, and getting lost a few times, we popped out on Navy Pier. There were rides, food, and a 200′ ferris wheel offering views of the city. The line to the ferris wheel burned about forty five minutes alone, so to combat the heat, Dad used the last of his cash to buy us an ice cream.
We were nearing the front of the line, and Dad was pulling out his wallet. That’s when the ticket booth person stated, “Our credit card machine’s broken. We can only take cash.” Both Dad and Mom had left all the rest of their money in our car (three miles away). That left my eleven-year-old self and both my siblings devastated and disappointed. Dad tried to make it up to us with a boat ride back to the car (the water taxi took credit cards), but we were having none of it. The boat ride back along Lake Michigan was very quiet.
To redeem himself on this road trip, Dad swung by Chicago on our way up to Minnesota.
The Field Museum was amazing, and so was the gigantic chrome bean (which is exactly what it sounds like). For the big finale Dad took us to the infamous “Ferris Wheel of Insanity”. Dad loaded us up into the carriage, whether we wanted it or not. It was a stunning view, and Dad definitely made amends for the past traumas.
The rest of Chicago was good too.
P.S After a bite of Chicago’s deep dish pizza, my life will never be the same.
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