But, I want to write about the happies I've been meaning to write about!
Last week, I took a trip to Chicago to visit erikadoor, Gene, and Company. As I waited for the South Shore train, I was amused to discover that Emo Guys have this unconscious attraction to each other: three of them, in about five minutes, managed to gravitate towards the same row of seats without a single word. Once they had arrived in a very symmetrical seating arrangement, they all proceeded to read three slim paperback intellectual books.
I took the train to the very last stop, Randolph Street Station. Randolph has been a concrete-coated hole in the ground for nearly as long as I can remember ... I can still picture the nice (aged) prints of planned improvements that were pasted on the drywall erected to keep you out of construction areas.
As I got off the train, I noticed a gentleman who looked shockingly like xryan_wx. He was flirting with a girl, and I had no idea he lived in Chicago anyway, so I shuffled his presence to the corner of my mind and walked right on by into an actually remodeled (if not technically completed) Randolph. I was completely floored by the fact that the place had a floor (it was shiny and blue). I walked all the way to the end of the station, and then turned around.
As it turns out, the guy was Ryan, and he had been sent to make sure I didn't wander off into the depths of Chicago. We hung out on the corner for awhile as we waited for Erika and Gene to arrive. He wanted to go looking for them, but I wasn't too inspired to leave the spot ... every time I go looking for someone, they tend to arrive exactly where I was about five minutes after I went.
Erika and Gene came bounding across the road, and we all went to Bennigan's for dinner. It was absolutely amazing to watch Ryan's flirting technique in action, it really was. I'm not saying that it was a bad thing ... I found it utterly remarkable, how he seemed to have an endless supply of witty commentary for females. The last I saw of him, he was flirting with a waitress ... but we had a train to catch and could not wait, so we said our good-byes as best we could and went on our way.
Pearl of wisdom gained: for people without hips, belts are invaluable.
The Amtrak trains were very cool because they had a (very narrow) second level to them. The train ride passed peacefully. Although I had been warned that the apartment situation was somewhat tense, everyone was very kind to me and did not seem to mind my presence.
We played lots of Katamari Damacy and Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas. I was completely thrilled with Katamari once I got more adept at the mechanics ... I had a vendetta against snails and cats, and a passion for rolling up penguins and people. GTA was more of a stretch for me, and though I eventually became competent at shooting people with various weapons, leaping over fences, and running across highways without care for personal safety, I never did quite master the art of running away from angry cops.
I think we all finally fell asleep around five in the morning.
The next day was very slow paced. We started off with some cereal (Gene has good taste), and then we went to a thrift store to look at all the sheer randomness that people purchase. Take, for example, the floor-length, fluffy, faux-fur, royal blue trenchcoat.
After that, we tried to make the train back to downtown Chicago so that I could hop on the South Shore back home. Unfortunately, the train's time and our time did not coincide, and the bugger left without us. That setback, however, enabled me to find a free book on the true terrorists in America, which looked like a swift way to waste a half-hour. I wound up not reading it, though. We returned to the apartment to eat a little something, play more Katamari, and figure out what to do next.
Since trains run on a schedule and that schedule no longer aligned with ours whatsoever, four of us decided to drive me back home. My family thought this was slightly weird, but it was explained easily with the statement, "Well, we've driven longer for dumber things!"
Erika and I slept most of the way, 'til we realized that we were in the wrong state. That was fixed. Now, I know my sense of direction is absolutely lame, and I know that I got my houses mixed up, and I know that I am notorious for getting lost, but I honestly swear that I really did know what I was doing for a little while ... more or less ... although navigating by landmark does not inspire confidence in others. (I must remember that.) Despite my ineptitude and some troubles with a lousy Yahoo map, we managed to make it to the right place in one piece.
The man in the closet is a secret.
I really wish I could have stayed longer, but the visit had to be kept brief, so that I could get my four very crooked wisdom teeth removed before my insurance went kapoot.
The surgery didn't last long at all; they asked me about my major, the gas knocked me out immediately thereafter, and when I woke up, an assistant tried to get me to sit up. That vertical orientation didn't last long either. I was up long enough to wonder why it was that every major surgery I've ever had done had to be done on my damn head, and then I promptly went back over.
Maybe to make up for the Christmas fiasco (a long story), my father took care of me for several hours after surgery. He even went out and purchased things like Jell-o and ice cream in my favorite flavor (strawberry), without being asked. I'm on three different kinds of pills and I'm doing all right now ... really, really looking forward to being able to do a good solid brushing, or eating something chewy or maybe even meat one of these days. Mmm, meat.