I was cleaning up the apartment. Erica was on her way up to Chicago for the weekend and I had to make my place less of a bachelor pad to more of a “it’s a cute apartment”. I was psyched though I realized it almost didn’t happen. Earlier in the day, Erica called me and told me it was snowing down in Chambana and she didn’t want to drive in the snow again. Shiz! My heart dropped. Under normal circumstances I would say for her to stay but I had this weekend all planned out. It wasn’t just any weekend, it was our Valentine’s Day weekend (1 week later). So after some puppy pouting and breath holding, Erica said goodbye and was on her way up to Chicago. Yay! Now, how am I going to make this place look less like a dump?
It was shortly after 4 when Erica called me. She proudly told me that she’s going 80 on the Dan Ryan (a feat that is not commonly done during rush hour) and will be at my place shortly. I was excited because this night was our postponed Valentine’s Day. I had it all planned out and Erica had no idea. A delectable 3 course dinner at the Atwood Cafe during Chicago’s restaurant week. A wonderful Broadway show at the Ford Center for the Performing Arts, Wicked to be precise. Following the show, cocktails at the Signature Lounge on the 95th floor of the John Hancock, overlooking the beautiful city lights of Chicago. Ah yes, what a perfect Valentine’s Day date with such an amazing woman. It was all planned out until…
“Uhh…John, my battery is dead.”
Huh? I was confused. “Uhh…plug your cell phone in the car charger?”
“No, I mean my car battery. What do I do? I’m going to call my dad.”
Oh Shiz! Erica’s car died as she got off the Dan Ryan transferring to LSD. Great! This is why I never planned anything because it will always go astray. Crap! There goes my wonderful plans. Shiz!
Erica called me back and told me to come help her (note: I know nothing about cars). I’m frantically showering, putting on nice clothes and was about to be out the door when I realized, I need to call a tow truck and find a mechanic. Shiz! I don’t know of a place. So I called Diana, my supervisor; she’s my go-to person when things go crazy. She lived through the 60s, she’ll know what to do. Thanks to D, I had a place, a number and was about to call when…”Where are you? You haven’t left yet? I’m stuck alone on the expressway and cold. Come get me now!”
::sighs:: I was in trouble. I tired explaining but when a damsel is in distress, there’s no excuse for delaying a rescue; I am her knight in shining armor, I had to get to her ASAP by all means possible. So I called the towing company and off on my stallion, Corolla’s her name, to rescue Erica. But then things got worse. Sheridan Rd, Broadway and *&#$ all the side streets going south was clogged for no apparent reason. I understand it’s rush hour but I should be moving faster than 5 mph. Oh come on…&$*%
Erica called again.
Yeah, my grave has been dug. It’s 1 hour later and I’m only 1 mile closer to Erica. Here I am taking the sides streets, which is backed up like a constipated dog, hoping to whoosh in a save Erica, only to realize that I’m going nowhere. 1 stop sign. And another. And Erica is calling again. Crap. “Talk to me,” she demanded. Sorry dear, I you’re frustrated but I am too. It’s safer this way. I hung up the phone as I continued inch south. Slowly but surely, after 45 minutes, I managed to squeeze in 1.5 miles to get onto LSD.
I was flying 80+ on LSD. Here I am, speeding to save my pretty lady. I’m excited that now I’m about to whoosh…Erica’s calling again. Yeah, I’m in the coffin and she’s covering me up in dirt.
“I’m on speeding on LSD!” I said.
“Don’t get too high,” she replied.
At least she seems to be in a better mood.
“Now get here and talk to me! I’m cold, tired and grumpy! Oh and I have to pee!”
I spoke too soon. I was making record time. I haven’t driven this fast on LSD since I had my learner’s permit. W00t! I was making up 15 miles in just under 15 minutes while I was talking to Erica. There’s still hope of me coming out of the grave. I was happy. She was starting to get happy (but not too happy lest she pees in her pants). And I was about 1 mile away when…I got lost.
Well, more specifically the expressway and side streets took me for a loop. Instead of getting closer to Erica, it took me further away. All I could hope now was for resurrection. I had to drive through Chinatown and then by Comiskey Park (*vomits*) before I could get onto the Dan Ryan and get to Erica.
“I’m coming dear!”
“Hurry up! Oh great, there’s another car pulling up from behind me. John help me. It’s going to be another creepy person. John? JOHN!”
There I was knocking on her window as she was still talking to me on the phone. A creepster eh? At least I’m no dead!
***TO BE CONTINUED***
(You can read Erica’s version here: Flare Jeans)