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October 09, 2009

An interesting week

So, I had my trip to Philadelphia on Tuesday. Wednesday and Thursday, I was Detroit and the always-lovely Flint. In Michigan I discovered the joys of the Coney Dog, which as far as I can tell is the same thing they have at Skyline Chili in Cincinnati. However, in Michigan, there's a coney dog restaurant on every corner. I'm not sure why I didn't notice this until yesterday. It was quite delicious.

But you're probably wondering why my picture today is of the cast of Twilight. I'll get to that.

Back to Tuesday. As some of you know, my dear car, Yoshi, has been through a lot in his lifetime. And so it was that on Tuesday morning, I drove Yoshi out of my parking space and onto Lake Shore Drive, where I noticed the check battery light was on. I paid no attention, as my car often flashes warning lights. Soon I was on 55, when I noticed the check engine light was now on, and the car was overheating. Stupidly, I drove all the way to Midway Airport, where the poor car died in the entranceway to the garage. Now, not only was my car broken, but it was blocking the way into the garage. Luckily I was able to jump start the car, drive it to a safe parking space, and catch my flight to Philadelphia.

Then the fun began. I called AAA, who promised to have a truck there to tow me, and that it would be a truck that could fit in the garage. So, when I got back to Midway at 9 that night, I eagerly anticipated my upcoming awesome ride with a tow truck driver. But, when the tow truck driver arrived, he informed me that his truck could not fit in the garage, and could I please push the car down to the exit? I said this would not work. He then said he'd get another truck to come, who could fit in the garage.

So, I sat in my car, listening to WGN. It was a particularly dreadful program, hosted by two pedantic professorial types who were carrying on about Samuel Johnson and what a dour person he was. 45 minutes later, the next tow truck arrived, and he too said he could not fit in the garage. I silently cursed AAA, and then told the driver I could not drive the car down the garage, and I need a truck who can get in the garage. He went home.

Because it was about 11 o'clock at this point, I went back to the airport and hailed a cab. The cabbie grumbled the entire way about having to accept my credit card for the $40 ride home, which really just topped the day off.

After another cab ride back to Midway on Wednesday morning, more wrangling revealed that AAA could not find a tow truck that could fit in the garage. I then consulted with the parking people at Midway, and they gave me the name of a company. Yet, when I called them, the man on the other end said his company doesn't go to Midway, only O'Hare, and he doesn't know how they got his number.

The only thing that kept me from launching a nuclear missile of profanity was the entire absurdity of the situation.

Finally I did some googling, and the first tow truck company I called promised they could fit in the garage. I was a bit wary, but when I came back yesterday, he was there waiting. We went right in, he hooked my car up to the truck, and away we went. My destination was a mechanic way on the North Side - a long trip from Midway (which is on the Southwest Side), but even worse during rush hour.

About this time, I noticed my driver had a DVD player in the truck. He was watching "Twilight." And so I hopped in the truck, we drove an hour and a half up to the mechanic, and we watched Twilight. We left Yoshi there, he dropped me off at the Brown Line, and I was on my way. Biggity bam.

It was quite possibly one of my strangest tow truck experiences. God knows I've had a lot of them. For example, my family and I were driving on the expressway between Montreal and Quebec City. As was its wont, our Chevy Suburban died. This was in the days before American cell phones worked in Canada, and my dad and I trudged about a mile to a rest area.

We didn't make it, because an elderly French couple picked us up and gave us a ride. They spoke not a word of English, but took us to the rest area. There, we called for a tow truck.

When our tow truck arrived, he seemed rather nervous. Then we figured out why - a second truck soon arrived. This second truck was actually the one that AAA had called, and the first one was a rogue driver who picked up the call on the radio and hoped to swoop in. These two fellows spoke little English, but eventually we got the first one to leave in exchange for $20.

Our driver then took us all the way to Quebec City, where the Chevrolet dealer also spoke no English. Their diagnosis of the car's problem: "alternator, kaput." Priceless.

Posted at 03:16 PM | Comments (0)

October 06, 2009

Pheelin Phine

Oh I'm sure residents of Philadelphia never tire of that! I've been all about Eastern Pennsylvania. Last Friday I took a quick jaunt to Bethlehem, then right back to Philadelphia in time to catch Chicago's elimination from the Olympics.

I managed to squeeze in a run, and I did the most touristy thing imaginable: I ran up the Rocky Steps. I felt like a complete and utter cliche as I ran up the steps, but then I saw the dozens of people around me who were doing the exact same thing, except they were also jumping with their hands in the air, like Rocky. I didn't go quite that far.

According to Wikipedia, there's 72 steps - and not to sound like an elitist bastard, but those steps should not be drastically hard for an experienced runner. Did it feel good, though? You betcha. Did I want to fight Apollo Creed? Not a chance.

Posted at 05:34 PM | Comments (0)

October 05, 2009

Book covers

Man, I'm on a school kick today lately. One of the most irritating things, to me, about high school was how the authorities made everyone put covers on their books.

Unlike this fancy one - click the link to read more about its construction - my book covers consisted of brown or white paper, unscientifically folded to cover as much space as possible, thereby protecting the book from the harsh environs of my backpack.

Now I, unfortunately, am an incorrigible doodler. I doodle over everything. It was no surprise, then, that the blank book cover was like manna from heaven for me. Here I had something to scribble on all year - a doodle could achieve a level of intricacy that a notebook doodle simply could not, if only because notebook pages must be turned every few minutes.

Yet, I always hated book covers. They were a hassle to make. They stripped the book of its distinguishing characteristics. Most importantly, I didn't want to cover the books because the school was making us. There is no greater futile struggle than to get a detention or fine for something as meaningless as an uncovered book. It was my way of sticking it to the man - along with untucked shirts and facial hair, the classic Catholic school form of rebellion.

Posted at 03:51 PM | Comments (0)

Old books

Hello faithful blog people. No, I have not abandoned you, though it sure seems like it. As part of my "refocusing effort," I am going to make a better attempt to update this thing.

Anyway, I was thinking today. Remember the old school books we used to get? They'd be reused every year. I, regrettably, was in elementary school in the 80's and early 90's. One of the things I remember the most was how on the first day of school, we'd get our textbooks. Then, we'd have to write down the number of the book, tell the teacher, and then write our names in the book. Then the teacher would write down the number of the book, so that everybody knew whom each book belonged to.

It was always a lot of anticipation for me, because I always looked to see who had my book the previous year. Was it somebody smart? Somebody dumb? A troublemaker? Then you could look back over the years, and see the names of its previous owners. Stretching all the way back to the 1970's, sometimes. It was incredible to think how long those books were in circulation.

I wonder if any books of mine are still in circulation. Do you think there's some kid out there, who would see my name scribbled in next to the year 1997, and think about how long ago that was? Do they realize that some day, 10 years from now, somebody might do the same thing to them?

Or, I suppose, we could get updated text books, and my name would be confined to the scrap heap.

Posted at 03:42 PM | Comments (0)