In the Windy City

The well-oiled machine of Bob and me made it out of Madison by 4:30 am this morning. We'd like to take this moment to thank 'Em and the Amundson Clan for their generosity. And hello to all the good folks of Chicago: Trish and Jim, Dan and Brighid, and Patrick.

We're in the Rogers Park branch of the Chicago public library. We arrived 9:30 am to the Union Station. So we're kind of wandering around for few hours before our train leaves at 5 pm.

Some pretty dramatic events have been taking place in the past 24 hours.

Let's start with Bob. We found out there are some pretty serious holes in Bob's armor last night. For instance when Bob's under the influence (of a single beverage), he likes to do handstands, even walk on those very same hands, and free-style rap. Bob rapped, "O-G" style, about going to the "club." And dancing in the club. And going to the club again. Then, today I noticed Bob seems to possess a kleptomaniac streak, as evidenced by the pen he took from the Viroqua Public Library and the New Age Hippy magazine he took from the Heartland Cafe. Compounding this string of thefts is the crime of vandalism. Bob snipped out an add for "Yoga Jesus" and taped into his ever-present notebook. Perhaps due the bad karma of these and other acts of malfeasance, Bob has been stricken with a sore back.

In other news, I talked Grandma Clarke for the first time in 7 years. That's what happens when you're a upwardly-mobile teacher making it big in New York City and your parents live in Iowa and your dad's mom lives in Springfield. Haven't been there in seven years. Plus, I can't show my face after infecting half the town with rickets, scurvy, and the shingles. But that's what Bob is for. (Or not. Quick side-story. Last night, when Bob and I had our beverage, there were a group of dudes dressed in menacing attire, smoking unfiltered Winstons, acting all rowdy, laughing aggressively, wearing cowboy hats, sporting mustaches, etc. And it was only 8 pm. I think they were making fun of Bob's Bunny Hat or my male-pattern baldness. Anyway, I told Bob he'd better get ready. He said, "Get ready for what?" I said, "Get ready to throw down!" and he nodded and said, "Okay, but I won't fight anyone. I practice non-violence to all living things." Buddhism is quite the scourge).

In other dramatic news, my Bruce Springsteen tickets did not sell on ebay. For the third listing. So far I've spent 75 dollars not selling them. But we're getting close. And the new album, "Magic," was released today. I'm hoping publicity will generate more interest for my fourth listing. Bob seems to think I should wait until 10 days before the concert (Oct 18th at the garden), to sell them. He also told me I should not have a reserve price. Perhaps it was tad optimistic to refuse to sell my tickets to anyone for less than 1,200 dollars.

Finally, Bob and I are scheming for new and better ways to get ourselves from point A to point B. I'm thinking of plopping down some coin for a used automobile. I'm a little apprehensive for the following reasons:

1) I haven't had a license for 7 years.

2) My license was suspended for points. Too many speeding tickets. Maybe a fender bender here and there. Maybe I failed to heed the flashing red lights of a stopped School Bus that was unloading elementary aged children while I was driving a taxicab.

3) I'm not positive, but I seem to recall insurance rates vary according to a complex array of criteria based on sex, driving record, years driving, etc. I'm not positive, but I believe I may have to pay 6,000 dollars per week for insurance.

So that's where Bob and I stand. We're leaving Union Station at 5 pm. That is, if I can find the ticket. It's not in my pocket. Could be in the rented locker, but I don't want to lose twelve dollars to find out. Also, I'm fairly sure I lost the ticket for the locker.

Until then.