Alan Gresik Swing Shift Orchestra

This fits back in the Chicago entries before Savannah....

You know from the whole ‘bright pink cleav incident’ (as it has now entered common parlance), Chicago seemed a little sketchy and unfriendly at first.

Days two and three changed all that. I’d like to scratch the record on Chicago and report that the folks of the mid-west are indeed super friendly.

Day 2 I got trapped in Macys for hours – some problem with the doors whereby I could go in, but then I got confused in piles of discounted jeans and couldn’t seem to find my way clear for three hours. As I said to mum on the phone later in the day – it was a bit of a red-letter day for me. For the first time in my life I tried on several pairs of jeans that fitted straight away. No half a foot of denim to cut off the bottom. I almost shrieked with joy in the changeroom, ok I did actually do a silent ‘dance of joy’. I was a little over-excited with the saleslady who laughed and thinks I should call my momma more often, because if I was her daughter, she’d be real worried about me traveling around by myself. I couldn’t decide on the Calvin Kleins or the DKNYs – so I bought both. That’s two pairs of jeans that look like they were custom made for me for less than $100 US. Bargain!

After my spot of retail therapy I headed downtown to the John Hancock Centre’s observation deck to get a good look around Chicago. Nicknamed, ‘Big John’, it’s a modern looking black building more youthful looking that it’s 1960s birthday. Sure it’s not the tallest building in Chicago – that would be Sears Tower, but Sears Tower is in the middle of nowhere on the edge of town. What exactly is there to look at from there?

In the early afternoon I headed back to my little room in the B’n’B to rest up before my big night at the Green Mill jazz lounge in Lincoln. My good friend Ritch had been very insistent before I left fair Brisvegas that I had all the details for the Green Mill. When I did a Google Map search of the location on the infamous day 1, it seemed about 40 minutes drive away from where I was staying. On the basis that I’d be returning home in the wee hours of the morning, I almost didn’t go. Until Kapra, the innkeeper told me that the cab ride would only be about 20 bucks. Nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

The Green Mill Jazz Lounge was easy to find when I stepped off the EL. Bright green flashing lights everywhere. I slid inside past a dude with a scary-looking mo’ hoping to grab a bite to eat and a good spot at the bar before the gig kicked off at 9pm. Except, they didn’t do food at the Green Mill, so I dined on chips and pretzels – not ideal, oh and a couple of French Martinis – so there’s fruit there?

The Green Mill is an old gin joint that hasn’t really changed since the 1920s. An original jazz lounge that had been a speakeasy during prohibition. Behind the bar were photos of Al Capone and his associates in the Green Mill during the 1920s and at 8pm the barman lit a green candle in front of the photos creating a sort of ‘gangster shrine’ to the bar’s former underworld patrons. Slowly the bar started filling up as the 9pm kick off approached.

Slowly a large group of musicians dressed in black started shuffling in the side door carrying their instruments. I hadn’t noticed earlier that there was space for no less than 13 band members at the front of the stage. An older grey-haired man in a black tuxedo took the microphone announcing the Alan Gresik Swing Shift Orchestra
and they sprang into life.

Trumpets, trombones, drums, piano, saxophone – you name it all kicked in. And so did the swing dancers. Old and young, couples started to take the floor before the band Lindy hopping and swinging in time with the old time tunes. Apparently Thursday is the best night of the week to go – as it’s the only night of the week that they have swing dancing.

An American guy called Patrick, was kind enough to ask me to dance, and all that I had learned in the six or so swing dance classes I’d taken in the Valley five years ago had escaped me. I was out of time, bumbling along, but fortunately Pat was patient. And so we swung the Green Mill on Thursday night.

At the end of the last set sometime after 1.30pm, I headed out in the night in Lincoln to get a cab across town. It was a little nerve-wracking as I had no idea how to get home from where I was, completely reliant on the cab driver’s knowledge of the area to get me home. Again, as we most tense moments in this trip – nothing to worry about. I was soon tucked up in by bed at the Two Urns B’n’B, with the image of the gleaming instruments filling my head.