Recollecting Nostalgia: Part 2

July 2, 2005

I woke up the warm blankets draped around me, I could taste the rancid tar and booze that coated my mouth from the night before. The first night in Chicago had been a great success and I could not wait to begin its second coming. I peeled my self out of bed and into the shower; the warm sting of the water was needed to pull myself out of an apathetic hangover.

The clock said noon and it was time for my day to begin, I found my cell phone, which at this moment I still had, flipped it open and dialed H. C. Slizzy. Slizzy suggested since it was my first summer here, that we head over to the Taste of Chicago, a sampler of the restaurants that align this great city. While I had heard of it, my excitement was muted due to my hangover that subdued my pangs of hunger. Oh well I thought, a little grease can't hurt anyone.

After a short cab ride, I met Slizzy at a predetermined corner and we entered what in my mind would always be remembered as an American holiday that celebrated gluttony. The smell was intoxicating, pizza, burgers, beer oh my! Tents lined the street with tantalizing delicacies; however, whatever appetite that was initiated by the smells, was easily quelled by the behemoth people devouring 10,000 calories in one sitting. Despite the rather quick upchuck reflex from the utter foolish patrons who should have been spending their day on a stair master rather than eating grease, I did enjoy some of the food and the concept of the day. Slizzy and I found a corner an a grassy knoll where we quietly ate our food and relived last night's episodes.

A few hours later Slizzy and I rolled over to the famed Baroda Medical Conference, where both our parents went to school. The lobby was teaming with Indian doctors and their families, I always on the look out for new tail was disappointed at the selection of daughters that were available. Quickly I spotted my younger cousin with his parents, my parents were not there this weekend so I was now a part of their family for this weekend. Gaymar was standing there back from his freshmen year and Vanderbilt, an escape from the trappings of Terre Haute, Indiana. We completed our ritualistic hand chest bump hellos and caught up on our lives in a few short minutes. Slizzy and I became impatient and were looking to head out of there. I felt that I could not leave my younger cousin there trapped with the parental units in medical lectures that only boring medical students would find entertaining. We scooped him up, headed back to Slizzy's place picking up a nice big case of Miller Light on the way, so we could start playing some drinking games and indoctrinate the young cousin in the ways of the drunkard.

After many hours of playing fuck the dealer, asshole, and good ole chugging contests that Slizzy continued to win, the blur of drinking began to take a hold of me, it was beginning. There was a dinner at the Baroda conference we had to attend, so I quickly hopped in a cab in my stupor and headed home to get pressed and dressed, it was now Slizzy's job to watch over my younger cousin. A few hours later I snuck myself into the Baroda conference dinner seeing as that I was not a paying guest. Gathering a lot of our friends we took a table and began passing around the drinks. Beer turned to wine turned to cocktails turned to shots. What began as a case race of beers now was a gluttony of booze.

Now that I was nice and tipsy the girls seemed beautiful and easily approachable. I began laying down my best game, teasing, working, and winning the number of this girl from the ATL. Ha Ha I thought a little one night action was in the cards for me tonight, holla at your boy.

After a few shots of Patron with an ole college classmate my cousin and I headed over to Amule and Nya's place for Pre-Drinking. My phone attached to my hip at that time, the new number ready to be used. We were hanging out in the apartment when I patted my pockets down, and realized something stark. Where the fuck is my cell phone? No no no no no, my little black book was sitting in a cab heading somewhere away from me. I tore apart my new friends apartment looking through couch cushions etc unable to find the phone, we called my phone to no avail. Dammit, I guess I will have to just drink my self to stupidity and forget about the lost phone and the lost number.

A few hours later and many drinks guzzled, we headed to the Red No Five, 100 Indians in toe, chances of getting in, 0%. Well I guess we will have to find ourselves at Rush and Division again because at least they will let us in...right? As we exited the cabs in front of then bar NY Lounge, I came to another stark realization, where the fuck are my keys? Oh shit...I ran after the first cab I saw flying down Division in a sea of cabs and blur. I passed Beefcake as he laughed hysterically as I passed him by in hysteria. I opened the cab door and quickly realized, this cabbie was not my cab driver. No Keys, No Phone, No Hope.

Welcome to Chicago, we got fun n' games. There I was no way to go home, no way to call home. I turned around and my younger cousin was no where to be found, so I stumbled back to the bar, grabbed a drink and cheered to the fact, I had made some great new memories in my new city.

Se La Vi Chicago, you will be missed.

Message to AOT

Nice post...too bad I have the power to delete. If you want to guest blog, I am more than willing to accommodate, but you must reveal yourself to me and publish through me...not against me. Otherwise your "posts" will be removed.

HOBO

Recollecting Nostalgia: Part 1

Sorry for not posting in a while, I was running around in my new old home in KC where I will be living for the next short while. Since these are my last few posts as a citizen of Chicago, I would like to take you back to the time when it all started. All characters will be given nicknames, but those of you who know them should be able to pick them out. Enjoy

July 1st, 2005

My car was packed to the brim, filled with items that any recent college grad would covet. Ratty old clothes maligned with bar odors, hand full of essential paper needed to begin my first days as a working man, and a back pack full of miscellaneous items thrown together in the last minute.

As I drove up on 90W I saw the bright lights of the city that soon would become my home, I grew anxious and excited, my friend H. C. Slizzy told me to head over to Dearborn and Maple as soon as a packed away my things. Shit....Chicago Traffic, what would soon be the bane of my existence was now slowing me down as I headed towards the infamous Wicker Park.

I parked my car in the back ally, grabbing all the clothes I could, and began doing wind sprints up and down the stairs throwing my clothes in my sister's apartment, just rushing to get going on the night ahead.

After I settled for a moment, clothes strewn across the apartment, I quickly showered, threw on my best clothes, and stood at the corner waiting for a cab to arrive. The bright lights threw me, as I adjusted to the city life, initially I could not tell what was what, and accidentally waived down a cop car seeing only the top lights from a distance and thought it was a cab. I was sorely mistaken, but eventually I found the cab that would start my world wind tour of Chicago.

"Dearborn and Maple," I barked at the indo/paki cab driver not knowing which direction I would be heading. After a short drive I stood in front of a building that I would be spending a lot of my partying days in: 1111 Dearborn. The doorman after a quick phone call upstairs pointed me to the elevator bank, 3007 here I come.

I slammed my fist in the door excited to see my friends, ready to begin the night of debauchery. H. C. Slizzy opened the door the only way he knew how, t-shirt and boxers, followed by the manly slap and hug maneuver. Slizzy gave me the dime store tour of the apartment, the white soft carpet enveloped the floor, as I turned the corner, there was the large black couches, sprawling in front of the view downtown, Sears tower shining in the night light.

After a few moments, his roommate at the time, someone who I had never met came around the corner, after a quick introduction, the man that I would affectionately call Beefcake was now my first new friend in the city.

The freezer was opened, and Slizzy pulled out a ice cold bottle of vodka, it was time for the pre-gaming to begin, ounces of liquor were guzzled, and the world was beginning to seem a blur. Here we go, I thought! Slizzy as usual finally put on some clothes minutes before our feet hit the pavement. "Where are we going," Beefcake queried. "Finn McCools, meet up with the Shah brothers," Slizzy replied.

As we stepped out of 1111 Dearborn the summer air was warm, inviting, and electric. Sounds of party goers could be heard in all directions as we walked passed Viagra Triangle to Division, the sight of many more dangerous rendezvous'. Entering Finn's it did not seem any different than any other sports bar I had ever entered, there sat the brothers, Nya and A-mule. They huddled around what looked at the time a monstrosity of a tower, a tower of golden cooled lightly frothed beer. After ten minutes or so, in strolled the curly haired master, know as Champagne Kanti, he needed no introduction, I had already experienced many a night strolling along the vagrant streets of NYC with him. Thus began my first meeting of the braintrusts, that would guide me in this city. The tower lessened quickly and after an hour or so, all of the beer had been drunk, not a single sip remained.

Slizzy then laid out the rest of our plans, it began and ended in two words, LEG ROOM. Everyone clamoured over the idea, how would we get in, etc. Slizzy confidently remarked, don't worry I got this, and he did. Five Indian males plus a few females walked to the front of the line, Slizzy walked to the front, whispering sweet nothings into the bouncer's ear, and presto we were in.

The lounge was hopping, there was all kinds of talent wandering around the bar, young, old, gorgeous, beautiful, good enough, even wait and see. This was exciting, so many girls, and no idea where to begin. The group stormed the right side of the bar, finding a round table large enough to accommodate us, the waitress grabbed our drink orders and in a few moments was back with a tray filled with drinks. Slizzy and Kanti both were going big, dirty martinis filled the table; I still a young promising rookie stuck with vodka tonic. In the front of the table, Kanti and I stood there chatting, our eyes never leaving the bar area as we checked out all the women that passed. In the back, Slizzy was in rare form, the center of the party, speaking whatever came to his mind, while everyone else sat back and enjoyed listening to his rantings, with boisterous laughter.

In a blur, I caught a glimpse of a beautiful blond haired creature, when I uttered under my breath "Wow." She stopped, whipping her blond hair through the air, and her eyes sultry and fixated on one thing, me. "Wow, huh," she said cocking a sly smile at me. I stood there speechless she had caught me in a moment I was ill prepared for, this would be the moment that defined me, close or go home.

"Ughhh Ughhh," I muttered still trying to find something slick to say, "Yea you caught me, I didn't even mean for you to hear that," I replied like the utter fool, not thinking of anything witty to say, god had given me a gift, and I wasted it away. Se La Vi, after a few minutes of awkward conversation, I gave the gift back to the other males more capable of closing than me at that time. Dammit...I thought, oh well, there are plenty more situations like that coming, if that was the first 12 hours of Chicago, this would be a great place for me.

The night was filled with booze, my eyes growing dim with liquor, last call was announced and we were shuffled out the door. Night one in Chicago was complete, Beefcake and Slizzy headed to subway to pick up late night eats, and I sauntered over to an open cab, told the cab driver
"Division and Wood," and headed back to Wicker Park. The stairs were daunting, but I finally managed to climb my way to the apartment door, I found my key, slid it into the dead bolt, and took a deep breath. This was only the beginning!

Are We Old Yet?

Note: This post is going to be a little different from my previous ones, so many of you may not like it, oh well!

The car bounced as it hit a pot hole, the jolt woke him up as he sat in the back seat. After a moment he peeled open his eyes with great difficulty, his mouth dry, he licked his lips, feeling the morning breath escape his mouth. Outside rain drops spattering across the car, the gray hue from the clouds muted all the light in the car. As he looked around he was unsure where he was in relation to his destination, the trees flew by in a haze. His parents were in the front two seats delicately whispering across the car's console as not to wake him.

It took a few moments for him to right himself, placing his hands on the supple leather, he raised himself off the back seat, stretching out his back and neck, which was tense from the awkward positioned slumber he was awoken from. At first glance he appeared to be like any other boy, dressed by his mother in a penguin outfit that he genuinely hated, wearing it with disdain and discomfort. Constantly, he picked at his suspenders trying to adjust it to a point where he felt comfortable to a fail. His youth was obvious, face filled with baby fat, soft to the touch, his head three sizes too large for his body as it sat awkwardly atop his neck, black hair and dark brown eyes completed his look that were the gift of his father.

The clock on the dashboard flickered with a green hue, the time vexed him, it did not give him an inkling of where he was and how close he was to his destination. As any child would, he began to squirm, there was a growing impatience that he was struggling to suppress, every second felt like ages, the two dots on the digital clock flashed at him as though they were mocking his inability to answer his question. Finally, after a few minutes he could not stand it, he shouted "ARE WE OLD YET!"

Time froze, the sounds of the rain drops hitting the car echoed no more. His eyes focused on a single raindrop that was hitting the windshield smashing itself into the window spreading out in every direction. The sounds of whispering could not be heard, looking at his parents their bodies and faces frozen in time. Confusion and fear began to seep into his heart, pumping ferociously, his head cocked from side to side trying to discern what had happened, when he caught a glimpse of himself rear view mirror. The young face that once encompassed his body, was now sullen, marred with wrinkles, his once exuberant naive youthful eyes were replaced with jaded experienced eyes peering with knowledge gained through age. Suddenly, he found himself asking a new question..."where did the time go."

As I have recently reached the tumultuous age of 25, people call it the quarter life crisis. I find that funny, to call it a crisis, Rwanda is a crisis, getting older is merely a transition. Currently, people my age are standing on the edge looking down at the next chapter of our lives. We are not old, but hell we are not young either. Simply put, we are in no man's land, one foot in our youth, one foot steering us to the next chapter. I continually find myself trying to keep my foot and the feet of others in youth, specifically, partying, boozing and chasing women. Despite my best efforts, a lot of my friends are taking that step away from me, coupling up, planning their futures, and staying home more often than not.

I do not blame them, it's a transition we all eventually must succumb to, mature and move on. If I were in a different place in my life, i.e. employed, in a relationship, I could easily find myself crashing into that next stage. In the end I will delay my aging as much as possible before I say goodbye to my youth and embrace my adulthood.

Disclaiming Disclaimer

After my last post which sorry to say was 9 days ago, people suddenly were worried about me. The thought was that I was one blog away from my Kurt Cobain moment mouth full of shotgun. Ha...I laugh at even the utter thought of that; am I the happiest person in the world, I won't ever claim that to be the truth. Lets be honest, 2008 has been a flat awful year for me. Lets list it out:
1) Lost my job over 9 months ago
2) I have been on 1 date over the entire year
3) No place to live as I move around like a nomadic herder
4) and finally my one passion and skill Fantasy Football...I may not make the playoffs in 1 of my leagues.

Despite this, I am willing to write this blog, I have the ability to participate in self deprecating humor. That was the point of this blog, to make fun of the situation I was in, laugh and enjoy the ridiculous predicaments I constantly find myself in. In 2007 my blog would have been completely different, that was my year, I had a great job, great friends, and I went on so many dates I couldn't remember their names, I only had nicknames as I wrote them in my AVPs' office on the white board labeling it the "depth chart."

So in short, No I am not a loser, who is depressed, and is going to kill himself. My future brother in-law pointed this out. We were sitting watching football and I was bitching about how my Fantasy teams were going south and my one skill is failing me in this dire of times. He simply replied "Wow you can't wait till 2008 is over can you....well at least you're a good sport about it." Yes, yes I am, would you be?

Couples Therapy

Isn't it strange, every time a single person goes out with a group of coupled, engaged, and married people they suddenly like to impart wisdom and dictate to you who to hit on. Suddenly, you are merely their tool, living the life they wish they had, as they vicariously live through you their sordid ideas of sexual exploitation.

I sat there in a group of 8 around a dinner table, all the people taken, except myself and my sister's friend who is 8 years my senior. Quickly, my soon to be brother in-law remarked on cue that her and I should commingle. It's obvious that people in couples suddenly think that single women no matter their age will allow any man, irrespective of circumstance to plow them with impunity. Now, as I have stated in my other posts I have not restrictions on age, and could easily find myself walking the walk of shame out of my elders bedroom. However, its difficult to save face after it has been openly stated in front of everyone that we should hook up.

For some reason people in relationships think this is a fantastic idea to state the obvious, throw out the idea of sex as if that will erase any need for courting, gaming, and closing. I wish I were around them prior to their relationships, and see how skillful their repertoire was prior to claiming their mates. I would imagine since I was surrounded by people who at 30+ were recently engaged, that they were not nearly as adept as they think they were.

Too often, the people in relationships who want to help the single people in their life, claim they are helping, but are more detrimental to the situation rather than aides. In all my years my family and friends constantly state that they are going to "find" me a girl as if it were that easy. They speak of girls that I should talk to, girls that they will introduce me to, but instead fail to even make one step forward to help the single people they promised to assist. Despite a quarter of a century on this planet, not once have I ever been set up, been on the dangerous blind date, or even been introduced to a single person specifically called upon to meet me. Therefore, for those people out there comfortable in their couples, instead of giving me "advice," do something or say nothing. If you need to live out your desire to enjoy the sordid affairs of single life let me be your marital doctor and I prescribe: go rent a romantic comedy, followed by downloading a pornographic film, take your significant other to bed, and pretend their someone else.

Note: Guns Galore

An interesting headline on CNN.com

Gun sales surge after Obama's election

I am not saying anything but...hmmmmmm!!!