I have never been able to label myself as a traveler. I remember hearing people in my high school classes talking about their trips to Mexico with their families. The most I ever had to contribute was that time I went to Oregon when I was seven and got bit by my dad’s new dog. Not the most glamorous of experiences. Therefore, while I was planning my trip to Chicago this summer, I wanted to immerse myself in activities that would allow me to proudly wear the traveler badge I’d been missing all my life.
That is, until I realized Chicago is not Minneapolis.
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