One week.

The first time I went to Chicago was for spring break in 2008. Ed and I drove to Clyde to spend the night and get up early to leave. He had been getting sick and in the morning I woke up with a sore throat. I remember we stopped half way (probably South Bend) to get gas and coffee, but I didn’t get anything to eat. We drove to his Uncle’s house north of the city, took a packed train downtown, and walked about a mile to the St. Patrick’s Day parade. It should go without saying that this was a bad combination of events and a few minutes into the parade I started getting extremely dizzy. I’ve never passed out before, but I began to realize it was a possibility and turned and told Ed I felt like I was going to be sick. He walked me away from the crowd and offered to steal a banana a stranger was eating, but we ended up sitting for a few minutes then walking to a Subway.

The rest of our stay was mostly uneventful and cold. We layered up to go downtown almost every day and took medicine every night to combat whatever sickness we both were getting. I ended up with just a cold, but Ed ended up with a sinus infection and two ear infections. Whoops. It didn’t stop me from liking the city, though, and the trip marks our anniversary.

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