The long and [windy] road:
The one thing I’ll remember more clearly than anything about our journey to Chicago? The wind. My God, it was like a monsoon. I first noticed it on my way back to Louisville, where I was meeting up with Krystal and Stephanie again. My poor little Mazda3 was being shoved back and forth across the interstate, and I was eternally grateful that I didn’t have to drive for that leg of the trip.
The Mazda and I made it to Krystal’s house intact, which was pretty miraculous. When I came in, everyone was doing their last-minute packing. Krystal’s daughter, Chelsea, was also going with us, as was another friend and fellow Street Teamer, Melanie, who we had to pick up along the way. We would be meeting up in Chicago with Jennifer from California and Amy from Colorado.
We didn’t waste much time getting the Jeep packed up. Stacking the suitcases in the back was sort of like playing a live-action game of Tetris, but we managed to fit everything in. We were actually sitting in the car, ready to go, when Krystal stopped.
“Oh!” she said to me. “I have a CD for you.”
I eyed her suspiciously. “You got me Snowed In, didn’t you?” The fact that I had refused to purchase the Hanson Christmas album was almost offensive to both Krystal and Stephanie, who insisted I needed it. So when she figured out that I wasn’t going to do it myself, she bought it for me. Krystal ran inside and returned with a copy of Snowed In and placed it in my hands, demanding that I listen to it. I scowled and tucked it away in my bag, stating that I had no desire to listen to chipmunk-style Christmas songs.
(I’ve actually listened to it almost every day since I got home. Gaaaaah.)
With that settled, we set off, picked up Melanie, and headed up I-65.
There were tornado warnings in Indiana. Like, actual tornados had been spotted. Krystal’s husband called to tell us this about an hour into our drive. Of course, the way the Jeep was shaking back and forth, I’d just figured we’d already driven into a tornado. Like, "Yeah, thanks, David, we're already there. Pray for us."
And then, right after Indianopolis, the rain came. Thick, heavy sheets of it, like God was pouring the water down on us from a giant bucket in the sky. The kind of rain that could pound plants back into the ground. I could barely see the road – I don’t know how in the world Krystal could tell where to drive, but we made it through alive, so she was doing something right.
I don’t remember a whole lot about the car ride. Because when I wasn’t worrying that I might die, I was lost in thought, mulling over ideas for my stories. Once it got too dark to write, however, we somehow got onto a variety of topics, including one about ghosts. Melanie told a spooky story about a friend of hers who heard footsteps and other noises, and claimed to have seen the ghosts of two children in her house – even heard them speak one night: “I think she knows we’re here.” As a result, Chelsea is now scared of small children spirits.
It was dark for most of our drive, since we didn’t leave until mid-afternoon and night began to fall in the early evening. But around nine o’clock or so, we could tell we were getting close to Chicago by the light – the horizon in front of us had a strange, ethereal glow that could only be explained by a mass conglomeration of electricity.
We passed through Gary, Indiana, sparking a conversation between Stephanie and I about Stephen King’s The Stand, which is a favorite book for both of us. “Isn’t Gary, Indiana the town that the Trashcan Man blows up?” she asked randomly as we approached it.
I thought for a moment, not even confused by her seemingly odd question. Only a King fan wouldn't be perplexed. “You know, I think it is.”
We went through three tolls before making it to Chicago – the first of which only cost $0.15. Is it just me, or is that a hilariously low price to make cars stop and pay? Krystal and Stephanie struggled just to come up with a nickel to make exact change, and since we were holding up traffic, gave up and threw in $0.20.
It wasn’t too much later that we finally saw the famed Chicago skyline in the distance. I rolled down the window, noticing that the air was much chiller than it had been at our previous stop hours earlier, and started snapping pictures. Of course, most of them turned out blurry. I did get an amusing one when we drew closer. I call it my ‘Barad-dûr, Dark Tower of Sauron’ shot. I even included a photo for reference:
“Don’t go where I can’t follow!”
Once we were firmly entrenched in the city, finding the hotel was surprisingly easy. Parking, however, was not. We pulled into the lot of the hotel, where there was a sign instructed us to wait on the parking attendant and follow his instructions. We stopped. We waited. No parking attendant. Confused, we drove around the garage once before turning around and coming back. This time, he was there, with a flat, sour expression on his face. Krystal rolled down her window.
“You checked in yet?” he asked bluntly. Not so much as a “hello”. Krystal and Stephanie said we had, since Jennifer was already there, and gave the room number. He turned and walked back to his little office. “Get your ticket.” Krystal got out of the car to go get the ticket, and she said later that he handed it to her and barked, “Park in the basement.” Very harsh, brusque, and short. Not very friendly at all.
So we parked, unloaded, and headed to the lobby. Jennifer was waiting, and as we walked in, Krystal rushed towards her. “Jennifer!” she exclaimed. “The parking man was so meeeeeean!!”
“Krystal,” Stephanie hissed. “He’s standing right behind you.” Krystal’s eyes widened in horror.
Hilariously enough, he was. And yeah, he heard. “I wasn’t being rude,” he snapped. “I was just asking if you’d checked in.” He continued talking while Krystal stumbled over herself to apologize, but by that point the rest of us had to go around the corner and smother our laughter so as not to make a scene.
We headed upstairs to our room. Well, to our closet, to be a little more accurate about it. I wish now we’d taken pictures of this tiny little room, but somehow that thought escaped me. After staying in the cavernous room in Cleveland, the one we first got in Chicago was like a cracker box. Just enough room for two beds – the rollaway cot we got for Chelsea had to be wedged between the foot of one bed and a table.
We did some minor exploring of the hotel, including going up on the roof, where I managed to get a really beautiful, non-blurry skyline shot:
All lit up and sparkling.
We learned that Amy’s flights were severely delayed – we didn’t know when she would arrive, exactly, but it was substantially later than planned. So we went down to a restaurant that adjoined the hotel for some food. And I enjoyed, as my VP suggested, some deep-dish Chicago supreme pizza. Absolutely delicious.
We went to bed somewhat early – well, at least considering how late we stayed up both nights in Cleveland. Jennifer had a separate room, since she smoked, but the rest of us stayed in the other. Krystal fell asleep as soon as she hit the mattress, while Stephanie stayed up a bit to write and wait on Amy. Chelsea had the cot, and I took the other main bed, and it didn’t take long to nod off.
I woke up sometime in the middle of the night, dying of thirst, and noticed that there was a person in my bed who hadn’t been there when I’d fallen asleep. Without my glasses and very little light, I could barely see. I really, really hope that’s Amy, I thought groggily. Because if it’s not…
I shrugged and went back to sleep. Sometimes, you’re too tired to even be curious.