Intercontinental: Chicago Magnificent Mile

@ 505 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, IL 60611

Just across from Nordstrom

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Enter through lobby doors, go under the stairs, turn right at check-in, pass the gift shop, turn right into elevator bank, through elevator bank, left out of the doors down the hallway. Or enter at the Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse entrance, down the few steps past the host stand, and turn right before the doors down the hallway.

Overall Grade: C

The Intercontinental is one of the historic hotels of Chicago and was once wonderfully restored. The lobby has lost some of its sheen, but is still quite nice. Originally a club for Shriners, this hotel has lavish ballrooms and an above ground pool! And with a lobby restaurant touting the name of Chicago-legend, Michael Jordan, one would expect luxury all around.

Unfortunately, that isn’t so. In fact, it does not appear that there is a lobby bathroom at all. At least not one in working order.

Entering the lobby, there are signs pointing to bathrooms. After running through the lobby a few times I came the the realization that all of the signs pointed towards the ballroom entrance. Unfortunately, when I arrived at these doors, not only did I find them locked, but there was black gaffers’ tape covering the final restroom sign.

What is a boy to do?

Luckily, I had been to this hotel before and had the privilege of eating in Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse, so I knew where the restaurant bathrooms presided. Any newcomer to this lodging, however, I’m sure, would have been gravely lost and confused.

After following a maze of hallways to a bathroom that is not really a hotel lobby restroom, I found myself entering a hallway led by a tattered carpet and overly yellow lighting. The whole world looked jaundice and the same hues fed into the bathroom itself.

Entering the restroom, I was greeted by a sweet minty scent and the branded prints of Jordan’s Nikes on wood. They seemed quite inflated in size, but I’ve never met the man or seen his feet close up. The wallpaper was bronze and textured with bumps reminiscent of a Spalding basketball. There were 3 urinals and 1 handicap stall.

The stall door was tired and the handle about ready to collapse, hanging on by a thread. I feared the handle would fall off completely after a few more uses, but I had to try the lock a few times before I was convinced it would hold its post.

The inside of the bowl was stained and the drain in the floor was visibly clogged with dust. I suppose it’s a good sign that the room hadn’t flooded recently, but I questioned the mopping and, thus, the cleanliness of everything else.

The bathroom was in need of some care. A hefty electrical panel sat behind the toilet, poorly disguised in butterscotch paint. There was tissue littered across the floor, and the beginnings of some amateur graffiti that was simply crossed out in pen.

I sneezed – from what, I am unsure – but the other man in the restroom remained silent.

The toilet paper? Military-issued, I’m sure. It tore at odd angles, but got the job done. And though the vanity area was decent in size, the mirrors and counter were left streaked and stained.

I expected a lot more from this hotel. And given the circumstances, expected a lot more from this 4-star steakhouse. This bathroom surely mars the Intercontinental name as much as it does the Jordan estate.