When I was a kid, every summer my dad and I would fly to Chicago. My grandfather would meet us at O'Hare, puffing on a stogie and blowing the smoke out the half-open window of his Buick. The car smelled like cigars, his clothes smelled like cigars, my grandparents' apartment near Rogers Park smel...
Read More... [Source: Westword | Music]
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Smoke 'em if you've got 'em at these area cigar bars
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