Gilligan's Island: Chicago Style: "The Movie Star"



Ginger, The "Movie Star" via Google Image search


The "Movie Star" shooed her hand at me dismissively and with a huff stated:

"Well, I'm a real writer. Not just a blogger. I write for real."

That is a verbatim quote that I typed into my ipod (don't you just love technology?) after experiencing my first ever rude encounter in the city of Chicago. Now that that has set in for a moment, let's go to the beginning of our tale to get the full story...



Trump Tower, Chicago

After enjoying our tour of the city, Oktoberfest brews and run in with "The Professor", we decided to start heading back to the hotel, which was in the direction of the newly completed Trump Tower, and if you remember, was the job of Chicago native, Bill Ranic, season one winner of The Apprentice reality show. He was a nice guy, wasn't he? Come to think of it, wasn't Omarosa on that season as well? She was a really rude girl, wasn't she? Hmmm...I think so.

My husband was itching to stop at the House of Blues to show off one of his favorite places to our friends, so we decided to swing by to grab a bite to eat and listen to some live music. We arrived just before the dinner crowd and quickly found four empty stools snug nicely at a little bar looking toward the stage. The main bar ran behind us, which made for easy serving and beer fetching. We were so glad to finally be able to take a load off- we had been walking &/or standing all day and let me tell you, it felt great to sit!

As we tapped to the beat of the music and took our first sip of beer, a very attractive, young woman, in her mid-20's, sauntered over toward my husband and asked him a question. "I would like to ask you if you are a gentleman and would give up your chair for a lady?" We both looked at each other and she repeated the question. My husband said that he was sorry, but we just sat down to have some dinner, but he thought there were some stools further down the bar. Her reply: "Go get it for me."

Is it just me or does it seem that generation x,y,z...(whatever it is now) is completely full of the entitlement attitude? I am; therefore, I should have.

My husband does not bother easily, and has on many occasions, given up his seat for a "lady", but right now,  I could see all over his face that he was upset. He said a flat "no." She repeated the phrase "Really....you would not be a gentleman and give up your seat for a lady?" two or three more times, emphasizing the word really. Then "Rude Girl" moved her way down to our friend and asked him in a syrup-y voice for his seat to be given up by a gentleman for a lady. It is here that I interrupted and said to her "We are here visiting and want to have a nice dinner with our friends. We just sat down- we've been walking all day and now we just want to grab a bite to eat." With a flip of her hair, she turned to me and said "Look, I live in Trump Tower. I am not expecting you as a woman to give up your chair. You sit and have a nice time. I just cannot believe that these gentleman will not give up their seat for a lady. You tourists are all alike."

"Rude Girl" turned back to our friend and asked if chivalry was dead in New York. He must have mentioned where we were from. He answered "No. Not at all. It just is for you." Ouch.
With that, she stomped down to the end of the bar to grab an empty stool and as she danced back in the direction of her two girlfriends sitting behind us at the bar, hit me with it. No apology...but she did come back to my husband and asked for his name. "Mike" he answered. (FYI-his name isn't Mike)...then asked his last name because she found this so interesting. When she got back into her place in Trump Tower, she was going to write all about this, since she is a writer. What did living in Trump Tower have anything to do with it? And what's up with all the medieval terms: Gentleman, Lady and chivalry?

Then I joined in on the conversation and said "You know, that is not a bad idea! I think I will write about this too! This will be a GREAT story for my blog."

Which brings us to the beginning of this post. With her friends in the background pleading with her to shut up, she shooed her hand at me dismissively and with a huff stated:

"Well, I'm a real writer. Not just a blogger. I write for real."

I thought her words might sting with that kind of delivery, but you know what? I asked myself in that split second is "Rude Girl" a real writer? Sure. If she writes, then she's a real writer.

Am I a real writer? I'm typing this story for you to read. I guess because I am writing, then I am a real writer too.

So, "Rude Girl",  put that on your stool and sit on it.