I was drawn to this task from the moment I first saw it. Why do I have such a burning desire to go to places I do not want to go? I don't know, but I knew I had to do it.

This completion will take you on a tour of Chicago's premiere tourist neighborhood. You will start off by seeing many fine expensive establishments such as boutiques and plastic surgery clinics, move on to the bars, and eventually, you will view videos of drunken tourists playing some game involving chugging beer and a ping pong table, as your friendly tour guide (me) winds up drunk herself by the end of the task. Haven't you always wondered what the tourists really do for fun? No? Neither had I, but since I had to find out, so do you. Read on:

On Friday night, after fortifying myself for the horrors ahead by going to a friend's concert at a lovely coffeehouse, I stepped back out into the night and waited for the bus. It was about 10:30 PM. Prime time for a reversed-polarity derive through the heart of Chicago's most touristy neighborhood ever - when the drunks would be out in force. Even during the day, I never want to go to tourist land, but it would be even worse now.

As an extra-special bonus, taking the Chicago bus east from where I was also meant taking the bus in the general direction of my job. A repellent thought on a Friday night, for sure.

I waited for the bus for a while, somewhat dreading the night ahead of me. I'd had an offer from a fellow FOEcaker, who wanted to join me on my reversed-polarity derive, but I'd turned her down. I did not want any moral support, no friend with whom I could laugh and make fun of what I saw, no safe refuge to turn to.

Here is the view west from the bus stop. One last look back at what I was leaving behind...


At the first sign of Tourist Land, I got off the bus. Behold a McDonald's.


I did not go inside. As repellent as it was, I knew it was only the tip of the iceberg and I forged on ahead. The expensive boutiques began to emerge, starting with this one selling very expensive pens. Why would anyone pay so much for a pen?



Up ahead were American flags.



These fine symbols of patriotism signified a store I have never, ever had any desire to go into: American Girl Place.



Fortunately for me, it was closed, so I didn't have to go in. But I did stop to examine this window display, which was pretty horrifying.



Across the street from the dolls was an expensive hotel.



With rich people dining in front of another expensive looking establishment.



Next door was a boutique selling expensive clothing.



I turned the corner here, heading toward the sound of drunken merriment. On my way to the bars, I passed a luxury car store:



And a plastic surgery clinic.



Here, one can obtain all kinds of procedures that held no appeal for me at all.



As if this weren't enough already, they are building more luxury establishments at this intersection!



And up at the next light, ANOTHER plastic surgery clinic... how many do we need?



This clinic shared a corner with a tanning salon, more boutiques selling things like perfume and shoes, and Prada.



Here are some of the tourists out enjoying the neighborhood.



At this point, I realized I would have to enter one of the many bars, and interact with the tourists, to make my reversed-polarity derive a true success. There were a lot of options. I was determined to go into the bar I least wanted to go into, but I really didn't want to go in any of these:



I wandered the streets in despair of actually finding something that looked worse than everything else. Here is a 1-minute video of tourists clogging the sidewalks as I considered my options. I'm sure these people are perfectly nice, really, but I was not attracted to them or particularly wanting to go into any of the bars and hang out with them.




As I emerged from the thick of the crowd, I spotted a very cool looking, apparently closed or abandoned hotel. It must have once been the hip thing around here, how interesting! I love abandoned shit, so I almost went to check it out, but stopped myself. I could not go anywhere attractive on this derive. Here is the abandoned looking hotel that I reluctantly turned away from.



I turned around and headed back into the thick of it. No sooner did I turn back to tourist land than I passed several guys, one of whom was saying, "Schaumburg! That's a nice neighborhood."



[Note: Schaumburg is not a neighborhood. It is a suburb... and not even one of the inner suburbs that has the feel of a Chicago neighborhood. Schaumburg is pretty far out there, and I think it is where they keep the IKEA. ]

Here are a couple more touristy bars.



I steeled myself and randomly entered one of them, a fake Irish pub called Dublin's. I am not really a fan of these fake Irish pubs at all. I stood at the entrance behind some tourist girls getting "directions" from a random guy outside, who was explaining that if they headed inside and "around to the left" they would find an open table. Thanking him profusely, the girls headed in. I followed. The guy did not give me any directions.

The bouncer did not card me, but instead asked if I was just heading to the bar. I said yes, figuring I would have to sit down at the bar, order a drink, and make small talk with the strangers. It is not something I would ever do in a bar full of yuppie tourist fratboy types, even though, again, I'm sure they are all perfectly nice if I were to get to know them. But a) I'm not much for bars and b) when I do go to bars I prefer small, friendly, non-crowded neighborhood dives and c) I like to go to bars with my friends. I have never felt like just going into a random bar full of fratboy types and sitting down at the bar by myself. I don't even do this at gay bars, much less bars where men will try to pick me up.

I wandered around in Dublin's, looking for an empty spot at the bar. I was briefly filled with hope that there weren't any and I could just forget this little part of the derive, and get out of there. But then, a seat opened up. I reluctantly headed over and sat down next to three guys. Feeling like it would be awkward if I didn't, I ordered a drink, and as I waited for the bartender to get it, I took a picture of the guys.



The one sitting closest to me introduced himself and said he was there for his friend's bachelor party. I lied and said I was there waiting for a friend. I asked him where he was from, and he said he was from Gurnee (a smaller city about an hour north of Chicago) and that his friend who was getting married was from Indianapolis. Then the conversation sort of died, so I took a couple of pictures of the other patrons of Dublin's.



I asked my new friend which of his friends was the bachelor. He pointed him out. The bachelor, like my new friend and the other guys they were with, were just sitting there staring into space. They were not partying or being funny or anything. They weren't even hitting on me creepily. I found myself somewhat disappointed. I drag myself into this tourist bar and they don't even perform.

I quickly finished my drink so I could get out of there. I'm a lightweight at the best of times, and at this time, I hadn't eaten anything since lunch, so I had a feeling this single drink would get me a bit on the tipsy side. I was right. As I left Dublin's, making fake excuses to the bachelors who were totally not partying at all, I felt the alcohol rushing to my head. There had to be better partying out there! I wandered away from the ritzy bars, heading towards more fratboy types. Here is a video I took while drunkenly walking down a sidewalk full of unappealing looking guys. Awesome.



Across the street, I spotted my next destination.



I was feeling more and more tipsy and was starting to lack the ability to tell whether I wanted to go there because I actually wanted to, or whether it was because I did not want to but my drunken brain was fully convinced of its reversed-polarity mission. Confused, I walked up to some girls sitting at one of the tables and asked if I could take their picture. They posed obligingly.



"Come in and party with us!" they begged. Ooh, party with drunk strangers! Every time drunk strangers have tried to get me to come hang out with them in a bar, I have refused. This time I went in, and headed to the girls' table, where they told me that they were from Ohio or Indiana or something. I should note here that every single person I talked to throughout the evening was not from Chicago. All the tourists coming here to get the Chicago experience are only hanging out with other tourists. I was probably the only authentic Chicagoan they encountered on their trip.

The girls convinced me to head to the bar for another drink. At this point, the photos I was taking began to get a little fuzzy, just like my head.



I waited a long time for the bartender to notice me. All this time, the drink I'd had at the previous bar was hitting me harder and harder. As I said, I'm a lightweight and I hadn't eaten anything since lunch. After taking a few more photos like the one above, I decided not to keep waiting for the bartender, and I headed back to my new friends at the table. On the way I passed this gross ping pong table covered with spilled beer and surrounded by more drunks.



Two more of my new friends posed for a picture.



I chatted with the girls about their trip to Chicago. It was easier now that I was drunk too. I actually like people a lot, all people, even tourists from Ohio, so I wasn't having too bad a time. Fortunately, I realized this and knew I had to leave my new friends. I turned around and there was the pool table covered in beer. It looked like the drunks were about to start their game, whatever it was. I have never had the slightest desire to play beer pong or whatever.



Here is a video of the drunks preparing to play. Lots of handshaking and posturing and pointing and pouring of beer.



This dude explained the rules of the game.



It was not Beer Pong, which as I understand it involves an actual ping pong ball, but I was really unable to concentrate on what he was saying, so the rules were a mystery to me until the game started. It was hard enough at this point to hold the camera steady. I took a picture of one of the not-Beer-Pong teams.



It seemed like the game was about to start! Here is the beginning of the game.



Awesome! I'd figured it out. You chug the beer and then you have to flip the cup over so it lands upside down on the ping pong table.  Plus, if you are the guy on the right in the striped shirt, you apparently get to jump up and down with sheer excitement.

Here is the rest of the game. It was hard to tell if anyone won.



Suddenly I was too hungry to stay there any longer. I knew that my reversed-polarity derive had come to its drunken end. The not-Beer-Pong game could not be topped. I took one final photo of the bar as I headed to the bus stop, home, and food.