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.