Holy fuck, man. I made a bunch of rookie mistakes tonight. After almost two years of doing this, I have not yet once GONE TO THE WRONG VENUE. Before today, that is. Lesson learned: When I’m shooting in a new city… check the flyer and don’t just google the address from the car.

Oh well. So we went to the wrong Standard Hotel. Had some Three’s Company style confusing conversations with the DJs and security there, and eventually found out where we should go.

The Standard Follows the same rule of thumb as just about every bar we’ve been to in this city. It looks kinda crappy on the outside, and decked out on the inside. The Purple Lounge lives up to its name in that it’s well… purple. And shiny. All over. It had the energy of a nightclub (hell, it had the energy of a class trip to an amusement park- fucking frenzied) and the feel of a lounge. Also it had swings.

Note to every bar in Chicago: Get swings. Nice ones. Tires should not be involved. Also hammocks.

So we weren’t on the tippy top of our game. We got there late, and kinda scrambled to set up (and I think that the traffic cameras were fucking with the radio controllers we were using on our lights that night), but the music was good, the drinks were strong, the bathrooms were quirky, and we met a bunch of cats from UCLA and some reality TV show stars (at least they said they were, and why would anyone want to lie about that?), and got a few good shots in before we had to pack it up.

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