Sore Feet and Chicken Feet

Moans and groans rose up through the muggy air as the morning sun beamed on my group of fellow students. Fifteen minutes into day two of Discover Chicago, and it was painfully obvious that none of us had acquired seasoned college legs quite yet. Lesson #1: higher education pounds out style for practicability. In short, forget the boat shoes. After I had brutally murdered my fashionista instincts, it was time to carry on with the day. Our first stop was the University of Chicago, but it might as well been a Nathaniel Hawthorne novel. To the left, a cold grey tower stood over the street, flaunting it's many sculptures and gargoyles. To the right, spires gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight on top of a church. I actually felt uncomfortable not carrying a sword around. Fortunately, we made it it out of castle-studded campus with no incidents, and boarded the train for Chinatown. One of my peers mentioned that he had never had true Chinese food. I chuckled at that, knowing I had grown up eating traditional Filipino recipes. This would be no problem. Lesson #2: Filipino food is not the same as Chinese food. After the third attempt at eating chicken feet, I gave up and longingly stared at the McDonald's down the street. Alas, the good people of Chinatown saved themselves from my nutrition-induced ire with their bubble tea. That is a true delicacy, and low-fat too! Not that I care. I'm a man.