"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses."

I have now officially seen more corn than I thought existed in the whole world. If we're actually eating all that corn, in the form of high-fructose corn syrup and other corn byproducts, it's no wonder we're all so fat. Isn't the Midwest supposed to be the nation's breadbasket? Where's all the grain?

The Midwest is far more boring than the West. While the West was much emptier, it was almost desolate in its emptiness, which made it sort of interesting. The Midwest is just corn, corn and interstate, as far as the eye can see--and it's just populated enough to elevate it into the realm of boring. Chuck Klosterman, I love you, but you come from a really boring state.

There are a couple of exceptions--Minnesota was much prettier than either of the Dakotas or Wisconsin (I think because there were more hills). Wisconsin, at least the part I saw from the interstate, rivals central Illinois in its ability to induce sleep while driving. I'm sure many parts of Wisconsin and central Illinois are lovely; but I didn't see those parts. Chicago, however, was and remains a bright shining beacon of hope in the midst of all that boredom. Chicago has now joined LA in my list of Favorite Places from this road trip. Both cities will definitely warrant a much longer and more involved return visit.

I splurged and got a room at an actual hotel, overlooking the lake. Then, because I couldn't get a reservation at Alinea, I had dinner at Blackbird. That was easily the best meal I've had since Vancouver, and it's no wonder--it's probably the first city in which I could have had that meal since Vancouver. I like big cities for many reasons--nightlife, culture, good food--and Chicago fulfills all those requirements in spades. I wouldn't want to be there in the winter, but in the summer it's gorgeous.

At Blackbird, I had good wine, some Chartreuese, veal sweetbreads with truffles, soft-shell crab, and an endive salad in a crusty potato basket thing with a poached egg on top. And of course the cheese plate. The soft-shell crab was more fry than crab, but it came over a mixture of edamame and jalapeno, which made up for it. I was quite happily stuffed. The next morning, I went out to explore the city and got in my cultural fix. I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art and the Art Institute, which are now my favorite art museums outside NYC. MCA featured an exhibit by Olafur Eliasson, which included the most strangely beautiful piece I think I've ever seen. It was a black box room, with a spongey floor, completely dark except for one dim spotlight centered on a fine mist of water. Doesn't sound like much, but the light made such beautiful unexpected patterns in the water, and the sound of the water falling in a dark room was a balm on my travel-weary soul. I stayed there for several minutes, and thanked the universe for art, art museums, and cities big enough to support such art museums.

Lunch involved a 90-minute wait at Hot Doug's, #12 on Anthony Bourdain's list of "13 Places You Have to Eat Before You Die." I had a large order of duck-fat fries (duck fat now joins my list of Things That Make Everything Better, along with bourbon and bacon), and three hot dogs: Spicy Smoked Alligator Sausage with Cajun Remoulade and St. Pete's Blue Cheese, Jamaican Jerk Pork Sausage with Spicy Mango-Passion Fruit Mayonnaise and Roasted Plantains, and Foie Gras and Sauternes Duck Sausage with Truffle Aioli, Foie Gras Mousse and Sel Gris. Now those are hot dogs. Well worth the 90-minute wait, even if I did want to start gnawing on my own arm out of hunger by the time I got them.

I stayed with John's parents in Columbia, MO for the night: another drive across corn and interstate, notable only for the fact that it was not Chicago traffic. Chicago, I love you, but you have some really suck-ass traffic. Please, work on that before I return.