When the Game told me there was a new 24 hour "internet cafe" in Andersonville, I immediately thought of those skeevy European internet cafes where you type in constant fear that the patron before you ejaculated on the keyboard.
What is now Winston's Internet Cafe at Clark and Argyle was formerly a bar you might recall from the not so distant past-- Clark's on Clark. Winston's shares the block with Man Country, and famed, defunct ancestor, the Eagle. The Game was convinced that there was still a dungeon underneath this cafe and gushed about her love of it saying, "How amazing is it that these unsuspecting people are drinking coffee and reading the NYT while below them someone is getting paddled with a ball gag in his mouth. Amazing, just incredible."
As my weekend two weekends ago was a rather extended one and characterized by all play and no work, I found myself up a creek last Tuesday. So I figured I would go check out this Winston's.
Attention: new favorite place in the world
a Chicago-based lesbian searching for her dignity
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Teachers, college and graduate students, insomniacs, keepers of weird hours, and nocturnal creatures, consider this the most important piece you will ever read.
I entered Winston's and actually was flabbergasted to find that there were but two public computer terminals (I typically associate public internet terminals with child porn, 'To Catch a Predator,' and other related internet deviance) and that it was MOST ambient. I think I arrived around 9 and the place was pretty crowded with a smattering of people there to catch up over some hot bevvies, but most were hard at work.
I did grow increasingly disturbed by the delicate piano music, which started to remind me of the animated, wordless winter classic, 'The Snowman.'
I entered Winston's and actually was flabbergasted to find that there were but two public computer terminals (I typically associate public internet terminals with child porn, 'To Catch a Predator,' and other related internet deviance) and that it was MOST ambient. I think I arrived around 9 and the place was pretty crowded with a smattering of people there to catch up over some hot bevvies, but most were hard at work.
I did grow increasingly disturbed by the delicate piano music, which started to remind me of the animated, wordless winter classic, 'The Snowman.'
'The Snowman' is a darling and beautiful film, but listening to that music for hours on end would drive anyone crazy. But, I shan't complain because I hate when you go to a cafe and they play loud music with lyrics such that those of us with ADHD have problems focusing. So, consider yourself warned; if you do not like new age music, then bring your own music (BYOM).
As the night progressed, the critical mass grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, even the girl who resembled a long last Kardashian sister (if you are in fact not a Loyola undergrad, call me) left. And then it was me. And my insanity. And my thoughts. And my Excel spreadsheets. And my PTSD flashbacks to writing my thesis as a wee undergrad myself.
As for the undeground dungeon, my interrogation (interview) of the owner upon my arrival solicited no confirmation of there being a dungeon. He is, in fact, a former manager and bartender of the institution that was the Eagle. Having spent about 6 hours there, I did notice people that would head to the back of the cafe only to return much later. And the conspiracy theorist in me says that they were accessing the secret back door to what remains of the Eagle. The barista, upon my repeated and annoying questioning, did tell me that there was a "crawl space" underneath the cafe. I winked at him as if to say, "Thanks for confirming my suspicions. We all know what kind of BDSM kink goes on in crawl spaces."
All in all, I found the experience to be extremely pleasant and full of hope. As someone who routinely pays the price from my lifelong lack of time management skills, I have found myself communing with the owls and the crickets ever since I was in high school. And I can say, there is no worse feeling in the world than being up working as you see the sun slowly lift its sleepy head and you think that you are the only person awake for miles. For all of you like me, know that there is hope. There is Winston's 24 hour Internet Cafe which is the greatest blessing Chicago has ever known. Not only is it cozy, clean, well furnished, staffed with friendly folks, and named after a dog, it gives you an alternative to being at home, awake and alone, at hours during which the rest of the city is fast asleep.
I left around 3 and was the last actual customer besides the barista. We chatted on my way out and he did caution me that any later and you start to encounter the bizarre blend of person getting up for work and person leaving Man Country. That spectacle, my friends, might well be worth rallying for another 2 hours next time.
As the night progressed, the critical mass grew smaller and smaller. Eventually, even the girl who resembled a long last Kardashian sister (if you are in fact not a Loyola undergrad, call me) left. And then it was me. And my insanity. And my thoughts. And my Excel spreadsheets. And my PTSD flashbacks to writing my thesis as a wee undergrad myself.
As for the undeground dungeon, my interrogation (interview) of the owner upon my arrival solicited no confirmation of there being a dungeon. He is, in fact, a former manager and bartender of the institution that was the Eagle. Having spent about 6 hours there, I did notice people that would head to the back of the cafe only to return much later. And the conspiracy theorist in me says that they were accessing the secret back door to what remains of the Eagle. The barista, upon my repeated and annoying questioning, did tell me that there was a "crawl space" underneath the cafe. I winked at him as if to say, "Thanks for confirming my suspicions. We all know what kind of BDSM kink goes on in crawl spaces."
All in all, I found the experience to be extremely pleasant and full of hope. As someone who routinely pays the price from my lifelong lack of time management skills, I have found myself communing with the owls and the crickets ever since I was in high school. And I can say, there is no worse feeling in the world than being up working as you see the sun slowly lift its sleepy head and you think that you are the only person awake for miles. For all of you like me, know that there is hope. There is Winston's 24 hour Internet Cafe which is the greatest blessing Chicago has ever known. Not only is it cozy, clean, well furnished, staffed with friendly folks, and named after a dog, it gives you an alternative to being at home, awake and alone, at hours during which the rest of the city is fast asleep.
I left around 3 and was the last actual customer besides the barista. We chatted on my way out and he did caution me that any later and you start to encounter the bizarre blend of person getting up for work and person leaving Man Country. That spectacle, my friends, might well be worth rallying for another 2 hours next time.
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1 Comment
rageagainsttheroutine said:
Good to see you are staying busy post-Harlan.
P
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