From The Editor’s Desk: Chicago is Lacking in Late Night Eats

It’s last call. I don’t have to go home, but I can’t stay here. As I emerge into the brisk Chicago evening — rushing to escape the freshly ignited, blinding fluorescent lights in the bar — an all too familiar feeling rushes over me, and my stomach. It’s at this moment when one of Chicago’s largest shortcomings rears its ugly head.

This great city offers pretty much everything a college student could ask for, but in one critical area it comes up dry — late night dining. Even on weekends, in most parts of the city midnight snackers will be hard pressed for a quick bite to eat. 

While in daylight this so-called global city of 2.7 million offers a veritable array of fine dining, cultural cuisine and fast foods, but come nightfall it morphs into a vast grid-patterned wasteland traversed by peckish wanderers. Although they probably have food at home, sometimes you just need to spend $15. 

While this is in no way an isolated issue, it’s especially acute near The Lake Shore Campus and generally in Rogers Park. How many times can Raising Cane’s and Taco Bell satisfy a rumbling belly before the monotony is too much to handle? When I find out I’ll let you know. 

Trekking north for a slice at the J.B. Alberto’s counter is often a promising divergence from corporate dullness — but even then this shop closes at midnight on Fridays and Saturdays. 

In other major cities late night dining options are a dime a dozen. Chicago is put to shame by New York where in the busiest areas it’s possible to get a slice of pizza 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year. Even in less dense neighborhoods, many restaurants in New York remain open well into the ante meridiem hours. 

The story is much the same in Washington D.C., Philadelphia and Austin — and these are tangential U.S. cities. Although I’ve never been, I’m sure late-night dining in other parts of the world is tastier than I could imagine. Chicago, despite its deep dish and Italian beef sandwiches, after midnight we’re largely relegated to whatever’s in the fridge. 

While it may be good for my wallet, I can’t help but be disappointed when the lights come on, the music stops and the only noise left is the sound of my grumbling tummy. 

For something that won’t disappoint you, check out this week’s edition of The Loyola Phoenix. In opinion, writer Michael Clausen brings an internal feud to light with his ill-advised lament of journalism’s disregard for the Oxford comma. In arts go inside the Salt Shed with Clairo as writer Bri Guntz chronicles her recent Chicago performance. In sports catch up with men’s soccer, who trounced Olivet Nazarene 4-1 Oct. 22.