My guitar gently weeps for Chicago, John Prine, sinful sandwiches and the old `hood near Wrigley
(LA Times Anaheim Ducks)

In our last installment, I´d been pantsed by the TSA, fleeced by the rental car company, and nearly hammered to death by mosquitoes in the hometown I hadn´t visited in five years. Do not become alarmed. This is pretty much how I always roll. Now we´re leaving behind the malarial joys of the northwest...