The restaurant anchoring the Ace Hotel is like a satellite for Jason Vincent and Ben Lustbader’s Logan Square mothership.
My first week in Chicago, in February 1995, I was driving around exploring the city when I turned my girlfriend's juddery little red Hyundai down Fulton Market between two delivery trucks backed up against opposite-facing loading docks. I was slowly squeezing my way through when around the corner whipped a forklift piloted by a wild-eyed berserker with Lemmy-length hair and a bloodied white work coat who stopped on only the briefest beat before hitting the gas, well aware that I was already putting the car in reverse and getting the fuck out of his way.…
The restaurant anchoring the Ace Hotel is like a satellite for Jason Vincent and Ben Lustbader’s Logan Square mothership.
My first week in Chicago, in February 1995, I was driving around exploring the city when I turned my girlfriend's juddery little red Hyundai down Fulton Market between two delivery trucks backed up against opposite-facing loading docks. I was slowly squeezing my way through when around the corner whipped a forklift piloted by a wild-eyed berserker with Lemmy-length hair and a bloodied white work coat who stopped on only the briefest beat before hitting the gas, well aware that I was already putting the car in reverse and getting the fuck out of his way.…