Winter Wonderland

twenty-one: flying high

*

one month later

I got my first paycheck yesterday and I was just waiting for my bank to call me about fraudulent activity on my account because I don't think I've ever had so much money in there at once. Even though I know my salary, even though I spent hours pouring over the math to figure out how much I'd be taking home each month and how much I can afford to spend, it still shocked me to see four figures rather than two.

Storie doesn't know all the details yet, but tonight we're celebrating. My first month in a proper job. My first month of feeling like I'm in the right place, like everything's going right; my first month of being able to pay the bills and treat my girlfriend to more than a homemade meal. I wanted to mark the occasion, so I've booked us a little treat.

It's not a total surprise to Storie – I'm not stupid. She hates surprises, hates being out of the loop, so last week I offered her the choice between a 'controlled surprise' or knowing every detail. She thought it over for a while before deciding to go for a controlled surprise and trust me about the rest, so I asked if she would be up for a trip that involves a Friday evening flight and a Sunday night train. The minute she said yes, I booked everything with the last of the money in my checking account.

Everything's already packed so when she gets home from work – hopefully in about fifteen minutes – we're going to take an Uber to the airport with plenty of time to spare before our flight at six fifteen. We should be there no later than five if traffic is decent, with plenty of time to spare if it's not, which gives us time to go through security and grab a snack before it's time to board our flight to Chicago.

It's high time Storie and I took a trip together, and I figured, what better (and easier) than the windy city? The flight is less than two hours and with the time difference, it's basically an hour, and we're flying into Midway rather than O'Hare, which pretty much cuts our airport-to-city transfer time in half. If everything goes to plan, we'll be in the heart of the city by seven thirty at the latest. Perfect time for a spot of dinner. I've reserved tables at a few different places, so we have options – deep dish pizza by the water or a hidden gem of a Korean restaurant tucked down a side street; a rooftop place with stunning views and a menu that made my mouth water, or an English-style gastropub. Whatever Storie is in the mood for – if all she wants is to grab a McDonald's and take it to our hotel room, then I'd love nothing more than exactly that.

When it came to booking a hotel, I consulted Kris. He spends a lot of time travelling for work, and Chicago is probably his most frequented city – I went to him for advice about a place with great views and comfortable beds for less than two hundred dollars a night, expecting nothing more than a list of suggestions, but it turned out he has contacts. Lots of contacts. He told me to leave it with him, and within an hour he called me back to let me know he'd secured us two nights at a five-star hotel right on the river, breakfast included.

When I asked how much I owed him, already wincing at the mention of five fucking stars, he told me it was a favor from a friend. Ten years ago he gave a helping hand to a guy who now owns a chain of luxury hotels – and this weekend, Storie and I will be reaping the rewards. I actually choked when I checked how much we'd be paying if this stay wasn't comped – eleven hundred dollars for two nights. The breakfast better be incredible.

Then, after two days in Chicago, we'll have dinner on Sunday night and make our way to Union Station where we'll get the overnight Amtrak back to Cleveland, in our own private berth. We'll make it to Tower City by six a.m. if the train's on time – which, apparently, is never – and we both have Monday off work to recuperate.