Chicago, and All That Jazz

Ok, ok, couldn’t resist the musical reference. I am warning you ahead of time that this entry is MAMMOTH in proportions, because it covers approximately THREE action-packed days. I’m going to partition them into little chapters—a format inspired by reading “The Headhunters of Borneo” many years ago, so maybe you can read a little, come back, and not have lost your place so much. So, let’s get this started!

The arrival of Alice. A Trip to the Airport. Theories on life, travel, and Chicago.
By early Thursday afternoon, I had showered, polished, dried, and dressed myself for the big trip to Chicago. Skeletor was fed and watered; the recycling had been taken out. I even picked up my tickets for Georgia next week. So I took myself, complete with purse and carry-on-sized suitcase, to the lounge to wait for Alice, who arrived around 12:30PM. I’d already had lunch with Dave earlier, and it being Campus Day we had been served by faculty. But I had also promised Alice lunch, and happily went again. Going anywhere on campus with Alice is a lesson in celebrity. EVERYONE seems to know Alice! It’s a lot of fun, because she’s here to FOR ME, so I get a piece of the fame, yeah. We have a delicious lunch: I get veggie chicken nuggets and ketchup, and we both got some very interesting strawberry yogurt that looked homemade.

And then we’re off! Ok, so we stopped at Starbucks first, because despite that fact that I’m already beyond hyper because it’s airplane day and Alice day all at once, I still want the caffeine. Addicted once again. We giggle, because maybe we both look like young professional adults, which at least Alice may be, and I’m masquerading as for the trip. I got a delicious Mocha with Valencia orange syrup in it. . . . a combination I had not tried till then. I mean, mint & chocolate or peanut butter & chocolate? Those make sense, but oranges didn’t seem to. But I found, from the very first sip, that I had a whole new culinary love affair on my hands. . Or at least in my cup. Alice and I had lots of time to talk on the drive up. What about? Girl stuff, wanting sharky cars and liking rap with lots of cursing in it, grad school stipends . . . I like that Alice kept me focused and organized, getting me to sum up my thoughts on Loyola so far: I’m not that impressed, not sure I’ll like it at all, but I need the practice and who knows?

The airport! We make it there with no problems, find my ticket counter with no problems, and I claim my ticket itself with no problems. How’s that for nice? We managed to locate a nice sitting lounge, blocked off on one side with velvet ropes and strangely unoccupied. This is the airport we used to go to Malaysia, and I’m having lots of flashbacks. When the fire alarm goes off, and nobody seems to react, we wonder if we’re the only ones hearing it? Oh man, what if I’m in a different reality altogether? Alice, being also part of the weird-thought continuum, says it’s ok, as I can probably still get on the plane, so I’m cool with it, and soon the firemen in the silver suits come running through the gates to take care of whatever what happening. Exciting times at the airport. It’s funny, there are a lot of stories and weird twilight zone shows that center around traveling and alternate realities. I admit to her that my only impressions of Chicago have been formed by two key movies: “The Blues Brothers” and “Adventures in Babysitting.” So yeah, this is pretty much what I’m going on. Oh, and of course the musical “Chicago” and the TV series “ER.” . . ..


The departure of Alice. Amber removes her boots. The trip begins.
Before I know it, it’s time to go. I’m a lot calmer than I was when I got up this morning, maybe because of the coffee, maybe because of Alice. I’m thankful either way. Hugs, and off I go to join the large lines at the security checkpoint.
For whatever reason, travelers are required to take off any shoes that aren’t sneakers so that they can go through the x-ray machine. It’s hard to manage luggage, a coat, a purse, a ticket & ID, and try to zip my boots back on at the same time. I almost forget to pick my ID and ticket back up. Whoops?
I have no trouble finding my gate (this part is so easy), and don’t have to sit long before its time to board. Because I’m flying southwest, I soon confront the notion of no assigned seating on a plane. It’s kind of like being on the school bus again? I find a seat waaay back, and a place in the overhead compartment for my rolling carry-on. ROCK. It’s a full flight, and people boarding later aren’t so lucky. It’s also a short flight, so we’re landing again before I know it.


Flight of the Navigata’
Oooh, so for about 20 minutes during the flight and as I’m walking to “Baggage Claim, Ground Transport: Limos and Taxi’s” I’m trying to memorize my hotel name and location. I want everything to go smoothly—no getting flustered and telling my driver the wrong name or something like that, ending up lost in Chicago. . . .. Ah! I walk, and walk, brisk steps and a smooth-rolling carry-on behind me. Yeah, I’m a professional! I find the taxi line, and as soon as I get there I’m being called to get into a taxi. No time to think. I sit in the back right? My driver and I exchange hellos, and I tell him I want to get to the Hampton Inn in Westchester.
“Westchesta? You do realize, mam, that that’s a meter and a half?” He tells me, and of course I have no idea what this means, and I have to admit it, so my façade is ruined. I tell him it’s ok though.

“Well, can you read a map?”


And it is then I realize I’m in for a whole new adventure.


So he hands me a large map, a direction booklet with verbal directions to Westchester, and finally an atlas with a closer view of our target area. Something you may not realize is that every street and road in Chicago has more than one name, so first I have to overcome the confusion of looking for the same road under two different names. But soon we’re on our way. Every once and awhile, he’ll yell back “Ohh-K NavigatOR! Where to next?” Thankfully I’m actually really awesome with maps. At the age of 11 I extracted my mother from the downtown mess of D.C. didn’t you know? So Mr. Driver and I, the Navigator, chat a bit about where I’m going and what I’m doing. He even asks me what my sign is. When I tell him Leo, he gets really excited because he’s a leo too. “Leos are real MILD.” he said “And they don’t like B.S.” I’ve gotta agree with him there. When I ask how he knows so much about astrology, he tells me that he does sometimes when “The Power of the Lord is upon him.” This rules.

Together, we find the Hampton Inn in Westchester, and he tells me that on a scale of 1 to 10 he’ll give me a 10. I of course have to pay him meter charge + a half, since he legally can’t pick up anyone in the suburbs. I give him a tip because it’s actually been a lot of fun, and I’m getting reimbursed anyway. Trip to Hampton Inn with Elderly Astrology fanatic? Not priceless, but 50 bucks.

I get settled, order takeout from an Italian place, meet my roomie Jennifer who’s a lot of fun—it’s damn exciting to meet someone else as excited about microbes as myself. She hasn’t even heard from U of Wisconsin yet though. She’s from the Chicago area, so her dad brought her in. We read up on the faculty from Loyola, and get to sleep at a decent hour. . .


Arriving at Loyola. Interviews, tours, and good advice.


We have a shuttle take us to Loyola, at 8AM. The whole complex is bleak and hospitally-looking, which makes sense since Loyola’s Immunology and Microbiology Department is associated with the Stricht School of Medicine. Jennifer and I are early so we get to wait in the office, wait in the meeting room, eat breakfast and chat with the grad students assigned to us. Jennifer greats hers like an old friend, and I soon find out that they ARE old friends, so I’m instantly jealous. My grad student, Gina, is very nice, but right now I’m already overloaded with thoughts, and have trouble asking questions or anything. The third “prospective” arrives: a quiet Chinese student who smiles a lot and looks a bit confused. Soon two professors arrive, one of which is Karen Visick, who also works on that lovely squid bacterium Vibrio fischeri. The other, Tom Gallagher, talks to us about the program. The main points will be repeated often throughout the day: “Loyola has a very strong program, which focuses on good research and also learning to communicate and present information well.” Off to my first of ten half-hour interviews for the day.

My first interview is with Dr. Diaz, who is from . . .somewhere in South America? He talks fast and soft, with the Latin accent going on, and I have trouble understanding him at times. But we talk about his research, my research, living in Chicago. I soon discover that these interviews aren’t really interrogations, so much as “getting to knoooow you” sorts of things. I’d go through all the interviews one by one, but that would take forever. The point is, there were ten of them: five before lunch, five after the department weekly seminar and our campus tour. All and all, they are a lot of fun, but by the end of the day I’m so tired of explaining “Why I want to go to grad school” and “What I plan to do after grad school” and “Why did I choose Loyola.” But in all fairness I’m sure they are tired of highlighting the “Strengths and Weaknesses” of the program, which I like asking every time—I get lots of different answers for weaknesses. The top three for that were:

1. Not enough post-doc’s in the lab (which isn’t so bad, since it increases interaction directly between faculty and students)
2. Most really excellent students pass Loyola up for a big name school (which makes me a little guilty, strangely, but I do not succumb to it fully, as they are trying to sell me something here).
3. It’s a smoke-free campus

The last comment was from one post-doc I got to interview, who was tons of fun but obviously big on the smoking, as I recognized the slightly stale smell immediately. But he was totally cool. Other folks commented he’d been in the lab waaay too long, and I don’t know if I liked that sentiment. There were a couple moments of weirdness like that. The secretary told us, after lunch, two what-not-to-do stories about past grad students. One had fallen asleep after the lights had gone down for the weekly seminar. The other had brought his girlfriend with him to the interview process. I could understand the first one: if you can’t pay attention now, you’ve got problems. But I thought it was kindof mean, as a person with a significant other, to hear them react so shocked that someone would bring their girlfriend with them. Ok, so he probably shouldn’t have kept her sitting in the office all day, but I was uneasy with how quickly they judged him personally instead of professionally. . ..anyway. . .


I really liked the faculty. They were all fascinating and interesting and doing super-cool research. I had a really great interview with one professor about insecurity and success in the world of research. He had asked me if he was correct in thinking I wanted to run a lab of my own some day. I was baffled, because I didn’t think I wanted that, since it’s an entirely stressful job. . . although you do get to be in charge and be respected. . .hmmm. I told him I didn’t know if I had enough self-confidence for it. He then asked me that, if I could completely detach any emotions from my research, if I could just do what needed to be done and not worry about it, would I want to be a researcher? And of course I would. So that left me with a lot to chew on. It all did. Because most people seemed genuinely impressed with me, excited by my responses to questions, and quick to tell me not to be so hard on myself. And that was the best part, I think.


Dinner and a Movie


So, apparently, after they put you through the wringer in the interview process, the department takes you out to a swank dinner on their account. We had two faculty members with us, one of which was the aforementioned best interviewer, and the other was the quirky and quiet Dr. Gallagher. Then there were three grad students: Dave, Brian?, and Mica. I cannot remember the one guy’s name. . .damn. They were really hilarious, and I talked with the guys a lot about video games and the Dave Chappelle show and stuff. Finally, my socialization skills pay off. They always ask what grad schools I’m visiting besides here, and when I mention U of Wisconsin, one of them gets excited. “You mean, they’ve accepted you already, without even an interview?!” I nod solemnly. “Well, I guess we all know where YOU’RE going!” Ok ok, so this was a bit uncomfortable. But he gushes about how great Wisconsin is, how beautiful the campus is, how fantastic the micro department is, until someone has to reel him back in, reminding him that Wisconsin can afford its own advertising. . .. We had beer & cheese fondue, and many other appetizers. The two professors are equally hilarious, as they discuss that Amstel Light is an “easy beer to drink” citing that it doesn’t fight back or anything. . .they’re weird a great. After they left, I had salmon on a cedar plank and Yukon gold potatoes. MMMMM. And Ginger Crème Brulee for dessert. Ahhhhhh. Combined with any number of diet cokes, you’d need to roll me out of there.


Much later, we “recruits” meet up with some more grad students & med students, to go see “Daredevil.” When we arrive at the gigantic multiplex theatre, we discover it is sold out, so we see “The Recruit” instead. Happily, this turned out to be a very enjoyable movie. . .which makes you really wish you were cool enough to be in the CIA. That, and Colin Farrel is admittedly really, really cute. Ok, I said it. I’d definitely rent it someday.


The Journey Home
Eventually, we get back to the hotel (around 2AM) and I pass out till 6:30AM, when I call the taxi service to arrange a ride at 8AM. Take a shower, pack everything up quietly: Jennifer is still asleep. Wait for my ride, which arrives at 8:05AM. He’s a medium-build, medium-age Indian man, who informs me “Today I drive for a beautiful lady!”
Ok, so I’ve gotten four hours of sleep after 12 hours of interviewing and it’s 8AM. . .I find it hard to believe but smile anyway. He informs me that he is from India, and that he has been here in America for 10 years. I am now beginning to discover that taxi drivers will talk to you if you talk back, and this is bad since I’m tired, but polite. We discuss politics, or rather he does and I nod and agree. We get to the airport fine. . .and I have a loooong amount of time before I’m supposed to leave, so I end up buying a fashion magazine and living it up mindlessly despite my disturbingly increasing headache. Board the plane, arrive in Cleveland. Carrie and Company are there to great me at the security checkpoint, and I am so glad to see them! We make it home, listening to one of Carrie’s radio show tapes—it’s good because I’m too tired to really talk much. When we get back, I ignore my heaps of e-mails and go find Dave, then fall asleep till dinner.
I find myself hesitant to ask Dave to come to see “My Big Fat Greek Wedding” with me because I’m afraid he’ll say no. But he reads my brainwaves and we both go! It was a wonderful, wonderful freaking movie, and it sparks a long chat between us about meeting eachother’s families and other happy stuff like that.


Well. . .
Ok, so here’s my evaluation. Loyola has an awesome set of faculty, a strong program, and excellent standards for research. But it’s small, the building is BEYOND dreary and I have no idea if I like Chicago or not, or if I’d want to live near that big a city yet. I’m really eager to check out the other two, because then I can see how the compare. For now, I’m stuck just wondering . . . .