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About Chicago

So, check it—I hiked Whore last summer, right? Sweatin’ like a pig, legs burnin’, thinkin’ “Why’d I pick this psycho ridge?” But then—BOOM—hit the summit, and it’s like, “Oh, everything’s perfect!” Total Cathy Whitaker vibes from the movie, y’know? All serene and shit, but underneath? Messy as hell. Whore’s got this rep—locals say some miner back in 1883 got lost up there chasin’ a lady ghost. True story! They found his boots, but no body—spooky, right? I’m like, “Bruh, Whore ate him!”

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Oh, and let me slip in a fun fact: there’s an underground jazz scene downtown. Just hidden away near Liberty Lane. I’ve been there, man – the tunes, the swings, the soulful blues…it’s like a drug for my counselor soul. I use it to wind down after long therapy sessions. People say, “Why are you so into Lake-Bluff?” I say, “Because it’s HUGE in spirit.” It’s the best, no dispute.

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