With apologies/props to Andrew...

...here's the view from my ninth floor room at the Hilton in O'Hare airport. (Click on the image for a larger version.) I'm on the road this week and this is the second night I've spent in an airport hotel. It's weird to know that I'm in Chicago, my hometown, but not really in Chicago. I'm at Chicago's airport, sure, but the O'Hare isn't Chicago. It's just another island on the airport archipelago. I'm not in the city, I'm not home, I'm not anywhere.

On the upside: the O'Hare Hilton has an amazing and hilarious bar, a 1970s Victorian revival freak of a bar called the Gaslight Club. Pictures later.