"There's no Macy's on State Street."

After a great deal of anticipation, my mom arrived in Chicago last Thursday afternoon for a much-needed vacation. We knew I’d still be working when she arrived, so we discussed her game plan ahead of time. She’d arrive at Union Station, and then grab a cab from there to Macy’s on State Street (why, oh why is there no convenient public transportation from Union Station to where I live??). Macy’s has often been a meeting point for us, as it’s fairly close to my work, she loves the voluminous, multi-floored shopping experience, and it’s an easy landmark (or, so we thought).

When I finished work, I called her and excitedly told her I was a couple of blocks away. We had agreed to meet at the Starbucks on Randolph and Wabash, but when I called, she told me the saleswoman told her there was no longer a Starbucks at Macy’s but that she was at a generic coffee shop on the first floor. This was immediately fishy. So, I arrived at Macy’s on State, and after checking three different Starbucks in the store and not finding mom, I called her again. “Mom, I’m at Starbucks on the bottom floor, but I don’t see you. There’s a Starbucks on practically every floor of this store. What if we meet at the Lush counter?” Mom, excitedly: "Oh, perfect! I know where that is!" Okay, so we decided to meet at Lush. After waiting for ten minutes, trying to dodge the over-zealous, socially-awkward salesman, and trying to fight the nausea of bath bomb and shower gel olfactory overload, she called me. “I’m at Lush,” she said. “So am I,” I replied. Then, I was sure: “Which Macy’s are you at??” Mom: “I don’t know. I told the taxi driver Macy’s on State. The big Macy’s. And he told me there wasn’t one and so I’m at Macy’s.” Me: “Are you at Water Tower Place??” Mom: “Yes.”

Now, we had had the discussion the evening before that she did NOT want to be at the Macy’s on Michigan Ave., but the one on State Street. She told the cab driver exactly what I told her to tell him. And, instead of bringing her to the Macy’s everybody knows, he firmly informed her that there wasn’t a Macy’s on State Street (yes, he actually said this), and drove her to the one farthest away so that he could make a few extra bucks. I was really angry. When I finally made my way up to Water Tower Place, she proceeded to tell me that she had had to lug her own heavy luggage in and out of the trunk of the taxi cab as well. I was livid. My mom has a lot of back trouble. Yes, she should have spoken up. But come on, you see a short little woman lugging a big suitcase from Union Station, you stop to pick her up, and all you can bother to do is pop the trunk for her? And then you tell her there’s no Macy’s on State Street? She got took in every sense of the phrase. Of course, she didn’t realize what had happened until later, but if she’d given me the name of the taxi company, the number of the cab and the name of the driver, you can bet I would be including all that information here, as well as calling someone to tell them off.

So, my advice to you if you’re traveling to Chicago—know exactly where you’re headed beforehand, and don’t let a taxi driver convince you that you’re wrong. I’ve taken cabs a half dozen times in the city, and almost every time the driver had no idea to what location I was referring. Of course, now I wonder if they just pretend they don’t know where they’re going so they can conveniently “get lost” and charge you, the unsuspecting patron, three times what it should actually cost to get from point A to point B.

Luckily, she and I were so happy to see each other that we let the whole situation roll off, and headed to the John Hancock for some Cheesecake Factory avocado egg rolls and some cookies n cream cheesecake. You’re right. It’s not a unique Chicago restaurant in any sense of the word. But we don’t have one back home, and it’s been a tradition every time she comes to town that we eat there. I was glad to fill up on conversation and cheesecake. But I have to admit, I was still a little P.O.ed at the anonymous cab driver who took my mom for a ride.