I would apologise for writing about Chicago before writing about Segment 1 of the road trip (Northern Illinois and Iowa) or my 29th birthday which I celebrated on the Mississipi with a boatful of Texan octagenerians, except that my rudementary set-up of phone and keyboard doesn’t let me post any pictures and also I’m thinking of pitching ‘lovable chaos’ as my brand.

Between the pouring lakefront sunlight and my blossoming anxiety, I’ve been up since 6am of Backward American Time despite Sheraton’s attempts to chain me to their incredibly comfortable beds. If the warm-up party last night was anything to go by, then having Z along may be the sanest decision I ever made since he was my one-man stylist/tech advisor/PR officer/Cheerleading band. Essentially Z is what I cling to in the absence of actual drugs/security blankets and when confronted with a roomful of people whom you’ve never met but who seem to know each other, with only a lone drink standing between you and hyperventilating in the bathroom, then having a Z on your side is like finding a mine of solid gold.

Such is the extent of my affection and gratitude that I’ve sworn the next time he drags me all over a foreign city in the Grail-Questlike pursuit of an acceptable resting place or restaurant, I shall follow him gaily and without complaint.