From: sginter@ix.netcom.com (Steven M. Ginter) Newsgroups: rec.arts.sf.written.robert-jordan Subject: TAN: DFS: God Help Chicago Date: Mon, 15 Nov 1999 15:23:03 -0500 Well, let's just get right into it, shall we? I left work at 4 PM on Thursday, and headed straight for Toledo. I would've stopped at home first, but if I did that then I'd check my E- mail and Usenet, and I wouldn't get out of town until after 5, and get stuck in rush hour traffic. As it was, I got stuck anyway, which set me behind about an half an hour. The drive out was uneventful, and I arrived at Maggie's at around 9:30. I promptly sat down at the kitchen table and started talking with Maggie, and I didn't move until Mark announced at 1:45 AM that he was going to bed, and I realized that might be a good idea for me, too. Good thing, in light of what happened next. I was awoken at 5 AM by a heavy pounding on the apartment door. Staggering off the couch, I had just enough time to hear, "Police, open up!" before opening the door. An officer asked me if anyone in the apartment had a car in the parking lot with NY plates. "Uh-oh," I thought through a somnambulistic haze, "that's my car." The officer told me to get dressed and come with him. I stepped out into the frigid night air and wobbled over to my car, which was surrounded by three or four police cars. My car had been broken into; the window was smashed and everything of value had been removed (this included my speakers, stereo, CD wallet, briefcase, sword (don't ask), and a (relatively worthless) credit card). Fortunately, Maggie's neighbors had seen it happen and called the police, and the criminal had been apprehended. Boy, was this guy stupid. He pulled his car right next to mine, smashed the window (I later found evidence that he'd actually tried to pry the door open first…twit), and proceeded to transfer the vehicle's contents from my car into his. Problem is, he left his car stereo blasting the whole while, and Maggie's neighbors, incensed by the noise at 5 AM, looked out their window to see who was making all that racket and saw him breaking into my car. One of the cops suggested that we "go for justice" and give me one swipe at the guy with my sword, and if he survived, then they'd prosecute him. So I got all my stuff back and tried to wire my stereo back in, only to realize that I needed some minor bits and pieces from an auto store to make it happen. I then shifted my attention to cleaning up the thousands of shards of glass now littering the interior of my car, and realized that I needed help with that, too. Don't car burglars use slim jims anymore? Kids these days; can't teach 'em a thing! I gave up and tried to get back to sleep. Didn't work. I rolled off the couch at about 7 AM , got dressed, and proceeded to try to find a glass shop to get my car fixed. Maggie was nice enough to have done some of the leg work for me previously, so when she awoke I just asked her for her recommendation, called them, and made an appointment to get the window replaced. Maggie made breakfast, and then I drove downtown and got the window fixed. I got back to Maggie's, re-wired my stereo and speakers, and was done and ready to go by 11:30. We hit the road and got caught in that wonderful Chicago traffic, and didn't get to Kenn's until after 5, and didn't find a parking spot until almost 6. Seriously, it took almost an hour to find a place to park. Then we discovered that Kenn wasn't home, so it was back down the block to the phone booth (which really reminded me of Dr. Who) to call Kenn and tell him to get his ass home because dammit, we were waiting for him. Kenn has a very nice apartment. It has a few minor…quirks, which I shall enumerate now, just to embarrass him: -it has very little in the way of furniture. In fact, the most fully furnished room in the apartment is the bathroom. -the paint color scheme that Kenn chose is very nice, but the twit he hired to paint the place is obviously color blind, because he "touched up" certain areas with a decidedly different shade of paint. -said twit also painted several of Kenn's cabinets shut. -Kenn has a fireplace which, although it is certified as authentically "fake," nevertheless still has ashes in it. -Kenn's phone rings once at 13 and 43 past the hour, every hour of every day. You can set your watch to it. The positive aspects of Kenn's apartment are his incredibly kick-ass computer, the neighborhood, and ummm… the fact that Kenn lives in it. So after receiving the "grand tour," ogling Kenn's PC, making a trip back to my car to pick up the rest of our luggage, and me taking a much-needed shower, we set out in search of some dinner. We wound up at a chinese place, and after briefly perusing the menu, just ordered one of every appetizer, except for the combo platter (that's actually what we told the waiter, too). Good food. We all waddled back to his apartment and watched the Blair Witch Project. Maggie, having already seen it, wasn't too impressed. Both Kenn and I thought that it was quite scary, but the ending really, really, REALLY sucks. Both Maggie and I slept on the hardwood floor, and I never thought that something so hard could feel so good (I know I'm going to pay for that, but I just couldn't resist). We all arose rather groggily (and quite late), and stumbled down to the 7-11 for some "breakfast" (which consisted of Chai Tea Latte and Pop Tarts). Then we spent still more time bullshitting and playing on Kenn's PC, and I went to take a shower. When I got out, Mike Kozlowski had arrived. Mike, thankfully, was not what I expected. I expected some scruffy, unshaven, slovenly lout, and instead I saw a dapper, unshaven, gentlemanly lout. I'm easy. Really, though, Mike's a nice guy and I was happy to meet him in person. We then commenced still more bullshitting and playing on Kenn's PC, while Kenn and Maggie took showers. I was forced to change my choice of outfits for the day when Kenn and Maggie decided to follow Mike's cue and dress semi-formal, which involved me being humbled by a certain lock on a certain laundry room door. In retrospect, locks were my big downfall for the weekend. We all piled into Mike's car (inexplicably, he had found a parking spot inside of five minutes), and headed off to Emilio's Tapas, the place where Kenn had decided he wanted to be blacklisted from. We arrived and Kenn spotted Hawk, Bill, Pam, and Drew immediately, but they unfortunately did not see us, so it took some shouting and arm-waving and random acts of violent noise for them to notice us and come over. We all headed in, where the Millers and Hughes were already waiting for us. John showed up shortly thereafter, and we all sat down and commenced to see how long we could make the waiter wait for us to get around to deciding what we wanted to order. Most of us ordered appetizers, some ordered entrees, and there were at least three or four separate sets of orders that were submitted to the wait staff, ensuring a steady stream of dishes between our table and the kitchen. Eventually we got full and left, to pursue other debaucheries elsewhere. At this point, the Millers and Hughes begged off and left, and Bill and Drew headed off in opposite directions to find a suitable location for a roving pack of Darkfriends to sack and burn. Both came back reporting no success (too many witnesses about, apparently), so we headed off in a third direction, and eventually found a mostly-empty bar where we could congregate. That didn't last long, because it was just too noisy and nobody could hear anyone else, so we left Drew and Bill there (they'd walked in, shucked their coats, picked up the pool cues and ordered beers), and left in search of greener pastures. We didn't find any, so we swung back around to pick up Drew and Bill, and decided to go back to Kenn's instead, and see if we could get him evicted. Mike, Kenn, Maggie and I took Mike's car to Linen's & Things to get some glasses and silverware (Kenn didn't own any), and then back to Kenn's, where the rest of the group was waiting. None of them had been able to circumvent the building's high-tech security system (just give the door a swift kick and it opens (child-proof, apparently)), so they were all waiting outside on the front step. Maggie and I left to procure beverages of varying degrees of toxicity, and then left again because John simply had to have Mountain Dew. We drank and talked, and then Pam and Hawk left to go buy a deck of cards at the corner 7- 11. They returned an hour later with said deck, as well as several books from a bookstore a few miles away. Mike wowed the audience with his ability to name the publisher for each author of each book, and some of us sat down to play cards while others went to the bookstore for more intellectually-stimulating activities (which turns out to include John beating Maggie over the head with a book, so there you have it). The others returned, the card game concluded, and we all had a sudden onset of the munchies, so we swarmed down Halsted and invaded a corner hot dog joint. Afterwards we all filed into a used book store on the way back, and Drew and I played hacky-sack out in front of the store, first with a penny, then with a crumpled up piece of paper. We even got some passers-by to join in briefly, but we stopped after the third or fourth time I almost wound up underneath the wheels of a passing cab chasing after the thing. We went back to Kenn's, where we drank and bullshitted a lot more, had birthday cake for Kenn (Happy B-Day again, Kenn!) and eventually everyone begged off and left, except for me and Maggie, who were left to once again experience the joys of sleeping on a hardwood floor with no padding. I rose to nature's call at 6 AM and was dismayed by the sight of the toilet overflowing when I flushed it. I ripped the cover off the reservoir and managed to keep the floor dry, but Kenn's alarm clock (which inexplicably is in the bathroom on top of the toilet) wound up going for a swim. So there I was, half asleep, right hand in freezing cold water holding the flapper down, left hand working the plunger, trying to unplug the damn toilet. After about a half-hour the toilet made some contented gurgling noises and finally flushed, so I crawled back into "bed" and fell asleep while trying to work some warmth and feeling back into my numb hand. Sunday morning saw Kenn and I going to Linens & Things for him to get some apartment essentials (like lamps and dishes and such), followed by a 1.5-mile dash from the store to my car (no parking around the store…go figure), and I got back only to have Kenn tell me that he couldn't find his card. So we drove back to his place and I got to park in the middle of the street with irate drivers honking at me every ten seconds, waiting for Kenn to find his card. He couldn't, so we went back to the store, I put it all on my card, Kenn cut me a check, and then we went back to his place to unload the booty and reload with luggage and the PC that Kenn gave Maggie. Maggie and I stopped about an hour outside of town for some lunch, and were served by none other than Cassandra. College life has changed her quite a bit, it seems; she looked nothing like she did when last I saw her, and didn't recognize either of us at all. Maggie and I arrived at Chez Brazeau at about 7:30 at night, and I got to play "pack mule" again by hauling in the luggage and new PC while Maggie disappeared beneath a pile of children and husband. I then left to begin the long, weary drive home, arriving back in Buffalo at about 12:30 and pausing just long enough to fire off an E-mail to Maggie and Kenn before slipping into a dreamless oblivion. I think I'm still there, actually. So this was a DFS of "firsts:" we brought the Millers and Hughes out of lurkerdom, Koz had his first Social, Kenn hosted his first Social, and we had our first DFS-related felony (it was bound to happen, eventually). I think that, next time I go to Chicago, I'm flying. Parking and traffic just suck way too much. -- Steve G. Wandering Gaidin