Hicktown Rejoices
I'm back in Hicktown. Actually, I've been back for about a day now, but I needed time to recover from the trip home. It takes about twelve hours for me to make it from 'nix to Hicktown. Normally, the trip is long and uneventful, but events conspired to make my life interesting, as always, and at one point I was about to kill people. I'm not talking about the normal kind of killing that involves simple separation of body and soul, but the kind of killing that Hannibal Lector would enjoy. I'm talking about the kind of killing, which would find CTA operators and O'Hare baggage clerks hanging from El support beams by their intestines and with their limbs splayed in angelic approximations. That might have satisfied my wrath. If it weren't for the heaven-sent chariots better known as Chicago Cabbies, I might be on display in some Chicago asylum with nifty bodyguards. Maybe I could luck out and some Jodie Foster look-alike would be sent to tend for me. Can you tell that I just saw Silence of the Lambs?
A trip from Phoenix to Hicktown is composed of several different modes of transportation. I am first shuttled to Sky Harbor, Phoenix by means of car. My parents are usually insistent on my prompt and early arrival. I insist that prompt means I get to the plane on time. My parents believe that prompt means about three hours before the time thinks about taxing to my departure gate. That means I often have a three to four hour wait before I launch skyward. I don't mind the wait. I spend it wandering around the airport, looking at new and interesting people. Sometimes I read. Most of the time, though, I fight against waves of ennui and sleeplessness. I try to go to the airport with as little sleep as possible in order to sleep on the return trip. It kills time, yannow. Luckily, I managed to persuade my mother to let me arrive with an hour and a half's wait to departure. I spent it talking to Miz Expresso and reading Savage Love on my pager.
The flight was uninteresting enough. There were some notable moments, such as when the flight attendant found it acceptable to ram the food cart against my head. I was asleep and then I wasn't. But, I had a slight headache and no apology or sympathetic hand-job from the cute girl sitting down from me. Sometimes I wonder if the attendants just hate dealing with the hassle of sleeping deaf passengers. I suppose the answer was just driven into my head.
There are three ways someone can get to Hicktown from Chicago. The first is the easiest option, but is usually unavailable for the likes of me. I wish I could have a car ride back, but that doesn't happen when you lose touch with your Chicago connections and your family lives on the west coast. The second option is the Peoria Charter Bus. That's the bus I usually take to the airport from Hicktown. The problem with that option is that the departure times are quite spaced. I landed at 3pm, Chicago time, and the next bus fled civilization at 7pm. That left only one viable option for me: Amtrak.
Amtrak is usually cheaper. The downside is that I have to take a 30-40 minute ride into the city VIA the El, and then walk to Union Station. In the summer, this trip isn't so bad, and I'm strong enough to haul everything on my back without too much complaint. The winter, however, is quite brutal, especially since I'm dressed for a warm Phoenix winter rather than a harsh Chicago winter. I ran a real risk of frostbite. I'm a trooper, so I went ahead with my Amtrak option, knowing that when I got home, plenty of people would offer to keep me warm. The Amtrak train left at 5:15pm, which offered me plenty of time to get from O'Hare to Union Station, Chicago.
My plane landed at 2:55pm. That was nice. What wasn't nice was the 40-minute wait for my luggage. What was even worse was the Blue Line was more sluggish than usual, and the Purple Line missed two scheduled times. I told Miz Expresso that I was going to miss my fucking train, which was an accurate assessment since it was then 4:50 (5:15, remember) and I was on the other side of town. Believe me, I was incensed, and slamming open CTA doors isn't very satisfied. They're designed with anti-slamming properties, such as hinges that are in the center of the doorframe rather than at the ends. So, a very angry Jon stomped down several flights of stairs in search of a Cab.
And, lo, it was there, on the other side of Clark and Lake. The light was red, so I waved at it and tore madly through the streets, carrying forty pounds of gear on my back and a very experated expression. The cab, smelling money, pulled aside and graciously waited. I quickly arrived, and demanded to know how long it would take the cab to get to Union Station. I was told five minutes, which was all I needed to know. I dove in, and bribed the cab driver to run red lights. We did run, through the streets of Chicago and ultimately to the front of Union Station. I threw the cabbie (angel) a crumpled bill and fell out of the cab. Hey, don't judge me. I had bags on my back that were caught in the door.
Have you ever watched movies where people run through the airport in search of their plane? I've always thought those people where incredibly stupid. Why didn't they simply leave at an earlier time and arrive hassle-free? Well, I was one of them and I ran madly through the train terminal, occasionally stopping to get my bearings and curse whomever designed the damned, evil building. Somehow, I managed to get my ticket, and arrive at the proper gate just in time to board, in spite of the fact that my ticket did not have the departure gate printed on it (Damn the evil spirits who conspired to create that ticket face!).
The train was heaven. I had so much leg room, and very comfortable chairs. I've never been so appeased by public transportation. I think that was karma being nice to me for putting up with my grievous rush through Chicago. I read Dante (The Pinsky translation!), talked to friends, and read some more Savage Love. I know, I'm a sick, perverted, twisted individual who enjoys sex columns by gay writers. But, I digress.
I made it home, got picked up by Blondie, and then picked up booze. Booze was Castillo's Gold Rum, for those of you who are interested. I've written a bit about it before. It's my cheap rum of choice. I also had a bottle of UV Red, which I stole from Blue Eyes' party shortly before leaving for Phoenix. I managed to finish both bottles, a fifth of Mad Dog, and other assorted drinks before passing out and waking up somewhere that wasn't home. There are a lot of gaps in that night, but I believe I went to three or four different parties.
All in all, not a bad trip home. It's taken me about two days to recover from it.
-----------
My trip through the west coast wasn't all fun. There was quite a lot of down time. During this down time, I often watched movies. Below is a list of every movie I've seen since December 21st.
Trekkies
Napoleon Dynamite
Pitch Black
Chronicles of Riddick
Labyrinth
Indiana Jones 1
Indiana Jones 2
Indiana Jones 3
King Arthur
Ice Age
The Hebrew Hammer
The Animatrix
Spiderman 2
Willow
Treasure Planet
Peter Pan
Ed Wood
Office Space
Se7en
Tod Browning's Freaks
Garden State
Phantom of the Opera
I Robot
Annie Hall
Boat Trip
Deliver us from Eva
Lovely and Amazing
Wit
SubUrbia
The Muse
One Fine Summer
Austin Powers
Clerks
House on Haunted Hill
Hellboy
Underworld
Animal House
Encino Man
The Terminator
Escape from New York
Silence of the Lambs
Cold Mountain
Yeah. I had quite a bit of down time.
A trip from Phoenix to Hicktown is composed of several different modes of transportation. I am first shuttled to Sky Harbor, Phoenix by means of car. My parents are usually insistent on my prompt and early arrival. I insist that prompt means I get to the plane on time. My parents believe that prompt means about three hours before the time thinks about taxing to my departure gate. That means I often have a three to four hour wait before I launch skyward. I don't mind the wait. I spend it wandering around the airport, looking at new and interesting people. Sometimes I read. Most of the time, though, I fight against waves of ennui and sleeplessness. I try to go to the airport with as little sleep as possible in order to sleep on the return trip. It kills time, yannow. Luckily, I managed to persuade my mother to let me arrive with an hour and a half's wait to departure. I spent it talking to Miz Expresso and reading Savage Love on my pager.
The flight was uninteresting enough. There were some notable moments, such as when the flight attendant found it acceptable to ram the food cart against my head. I was asleep and then I wasn't. But, I had a slight headache and no apology or sympathetic hand-job from the cute girl sitting down from me. Sometimes I wonder if the attendants just hate dealing with the hassle of sleeping deaf passengers. I suppose the answer was just driven into my head.
There are three ways someone can get to Hicktown from Chicago. The first is the easiest option, but is usually unavailable for the likes of me. I wish I could have a car ride back, but that doesn't happen when you lose touch with your Chicago connections and your family lives on the west coast. The second option is the Peoria Charter Bus. That's the bus I usually take to the airport from Hicktown. The problem with that option is that the departure times are quite spaced. I landed at 3pm, Chicago time, and the next bus fled civilization at 7pm. That left only one viable option for me: Amtrak.
Amtrak is usually cheaper. The downside is that I have to take a 30-40 minute ride into the city VIA the El, and then walk to Union Station. In the summer, this trip isn't so bad, and I'm strong enough to haul everything on my back without too much complaint. The winter, however, is quite brutal, especially since I'm dressed for a warm Phoenix winter rather than a harsh Chicago winter. I ran a real risk of frostbite. I'm a trooper, so I went ahead with my Amtrak option, knowing that when I got home, plenty of people would offer to keep me warm. The Amtrak train left at 5:15pm, which offered me plenty of time to get from O'Hare to Union Station, Chicago.
My plane landed at 2:55pm. That was nice. What wasn't nice was the 40-minute wait for my luggage. What was even worse was the Blue Line was more sluggish than usual, and the Purple Line missed two scheduled times. I told Miz Expresso that I was going to miss my fucking train, which was an accurate assessment since it was then 4:50 (5:15, remember) and I was on the other side of town. Believe me, I was incensed, and slamming open CTA doors isn't very satisfied. They're designed with anti-slamming properties, such as hinges that are in the center of the doorframe rather than at the ends. So, a very angry Jon stomped down several flights of stairs in search of a Cab.
And, lo, it was there, on the other side of Clark and Lake. The light was red, so I waved at it and tore madly through the streets, carrying forty pounds of gear on my back and a very experated expression. The cab, smelling money, pulled aside and graciously waited. I quickly arrived, and demanded to know how long it would take the cab to get to Union Station. I was told five minutes, which was all I needed to know. I dove in, and bribed the cab driver to run red lights. We did run, through the streets of Chicago and ultimately to the front of Union Station. I threw the cabbie (angel) a crumpled bill and fell out of the cab. Hey, don't judge me. I had bags on my back that were caught in the door.
Have you ever watched movies where people run through the airport in search of their plane? I've always thought those people where incredibly stupid. Why didn't they simply leave at an earlier time and arrive hassle-free? Well, I was one of them and I ran madly through the train terminal, occasionally stopping to get my bearings and curse whomever designed the damned, evil building. Somehow, I managed to get my ticket, and arrive at the proper gate just in time to board, in spite of the fact that my ticket did not have the departure gate printed on it (Damn the evil spirits who conspired to create that ticket face!).
The train was heaven. I had so much leg room, and very comfortable chairs. I've never been so appeased by public transportation. I think that was karma being nice to me for putting up with my grievous rush through Chicago. I read Dante (The Pinsky translation!), talked to friends, and read some more Savage Love. I know, I'm a sick, perverted, twisted individual who enjoys sex columns by gay writers. But, I digress.
I made it home, got picked up by Blondie, and then picked up booze. Booze was Castillo's Gold Rum, for those of you who are interested. I've written a bit about it before. It's my cheap rum of choice. I also had a bottle of UV Red, which I stole from Blue Eyes' party shortly before leaving for Phoenix. I managed to finish both bottles, a fifth of Mad Dog, and other assorted drinks before passing out and waking up somewhere that wasn't home. There are a lot of gaps in that night, but I believe I went to three or four different parties.
All in all, not a bad trip home. It's taken me about two days to recover from it.
-----------
My trip through the west coast wasn't all fun. There was quite a lot of down time. During this down time, I often watched movies. Below is a list of every movie I've seen since December 21st.
Trekkies
Napoleon Dynamite
Pitch Black
Chronicles of Riddick
Labyrinth
Indiana Jones 1
Indiana Jones 2
Indiana Jones 3
King Arthur
Ice Age
The Hebrew Hammer
The Animatrix
Spiderman 2
Willow
Treasure Planet
Peter Pan
Ed Wood
Office Space
Se7en
Tod Browning's Freaks
Garden State
Phantom of the Opera
I Robot
Annie Hall
Boat Trip
Deliver us from Eva
Lovely and Amazing
Wit
SubUrbia
The Muse
One Fine Summer
Austin Powers
Clerks
House on Haunted Hill
Hellboy
Underworld
Animal House
Encino Man
The Terminator
Escape from New York
Silence of the Lambs
Cold Mountain
Yeah. I had quite a bit of down time.
posted by Jon at 2:35 PM
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