Picked Cousin Frankie up at the train station and walked around downtown, showing him the city. Fed him a Chicago-style hot dog (mustard, relish, onion, tomato, pickle, peppers, and celery salt) which quickly offended even a Southerner's belly. Visited various parts of the city of interest to one who has never been to a city bigger than New Orleans. Survived an accosting by a group of smacked-out rockstar types in the rockstar ghetto, who were likely induced by a combination of pills and likker to feel Frankie's hair. Did some work on bikes to get them working for Friday's CM ride. Rode around on newly repaired bikes through the alleys, where our attention was quickly turned from discarded junk to a burning pizza factory. Watched pizza factory burn down. Was surprised by the loudness of a fire, and the tediousness of firefighting. Saw a cop parked across two lanes in order to prevent traffic from approaching the fire. Wished we had a camera to photograph cop passed out asleep at the wheel of his cruiser with towering flames in the background. Dined at an ethiopian restaurant where a smooth, funky worldbeat band induced, through the bow-chicka-bow-bow of their music, a dining couple to start sucking face. Frankie did the wrap-your-hands-around-back-to-make-it-look-like-you're-making-out thing and we couldn't stop giggling. Finished out the evening on Monkey Boy's 22nd-floor roof deck, where we noticed that one of the buildings had its lights randomly arranged in a way that looked like a skull. Watched the moon pass between buildings at an observable pace.