CrazyJohn: The Ken Chronicles
Yes... it's been a while kiddies and I know you've missed me so... but I've been busy with an actual guest! Senior Airman Kenneth John Huhtala of the United States Air Force.
Thursday: Silly me, I forgot the Thursday, 3 in the afternoon traffic in Chicago! I'm so stupid sometimes (this is a joke). I left my apartment somewhere around quarter to three... and, because of traffic on 94 and on 55, I arrived at Midway Airport sometime around five or five thirty. Yes... it honestly took me over two and a half hours to go something like 20 or 30 miles. One of the reasons I hate this city.
Anyway... so I picked Ken up and hour and a half late... but he didn't seem to care. It was drizzling and Ken hasn't seen rain in months. So he was happy to be waiting outside in the rain... and that put me in a better mood after the long and stupid drive.
We got to my apartment and I showed him around, where everything was, etc (this took ten seconds). Then we hit the city... I figured that I'd show him the Magnificent Mile first, since it's close and it's a Chicago "tourist" thing. We walked down Michigan looking at all the stores and the people in an early December Chicago rain. Ken seemed to love it... and his positivity rubbed off that night... It was the first time in a long time that I was able to walk around see all the Christmas, excuse me, "holiday" decorations... and they are beautiful.
And after walking around, we had some real Chicago deep dish pizza from Lou Malnati's. Upon entering the establishment, we were brought through all the tables and chairs and into a back room. I was assuming we were going to be beaten... but no... apparently our punishment was to watch the Wings/Blues game. Now Ken and I don't know lots about hockey, but we know what we like (the Red Wings) and we know what we don't (everyone else... especially Colorado). But we were able to have a nice conversation while watching the game and eating pizza, regardless of our semi-ignorance. We had sausage deep dish, but I might as well say that the pizza had us, as it was avenging it's death in the form of methane the rest of the night. But, it didn't really matter, because the rest of the night was us shooting things (after a quick tour of where I work and go to class).
Friday: Tourist day number two... Ken and I headed downtown and went up in the Sears tower. We went up to the Skydeck just in time to see the sun setting. It was beautiful... and I really wanted to share it with someone, but I couldn't figure out who I could call just to say "hey... I'm looking at the sunset over Chicago and I'm up high enough that the clouds are below me... and it's brilliant". I did try to call my parents... but apparently it's difficult to get reception from the tallest building in the world. Hmm... who knew?
We then proceeded to check out the famous Billy Goat Tavern of "Cheezborger" fame. Are the people really that rude to you? Yes. Are the burger's good? Yes. Is it worth checking out? Only if you don't look like someone that has a lot of cash on them.
We also checked out the Navy Pier Friday night... it has the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre and some interesting shops and things to do. It was neat to walk around... but also the windiest that this city can get (as it's right on Lake Michigan).
After the Navy Pier experience, we headed to an Irish Pub that Ken had found online. It's called "fado" and one of the letters has an accent over it and I don't know which letter it is, so deal with it. So... fado is an Irish Pub on two floors on the corner of some street and some other street (do you REALLY need to know?)... so upon entering the establishment from the street, we were surprised to see that it was impossible to stand or move in this pub. Yep... on a Friday night I understand, but at 7 o'clock? Weird! Luckily, it IS two floors, so we went upstairs, to find every seat occupied. Now, if it was just me, I would have left... bars aren't my thing, people aren't my thing, drunk people are the complete opposite of my thing... but Ken wanted to stay, so we did. Besides... he was buying. And, what do we get when someone else is buying, kiddies? That's right! Something from another country! I decided to try Guinness... even though he was trying to stop me from getting it by telling me it tastes like drinking bread (which it kind of does). But some dude who sounded really Irish who looked like he played rugby was the bartender... so I knew the place was ok. When I got the Guinness, I was hesitent (as my sister says it tastes like rubber bands [which it doesn't])... but I was being Fun!John... so bottom's up!
I really liked it. A lot... really really. I like the taste, I love the way it looks in a glass, and I love that it's as Irish as I am (even more so... but Guinness doesn't have bright red sideburns, does it?). But I really do like the way it tastes... which surprises the shit out of me... as it's an alcohol (which I historically have hated) and people really don't like it (because they don't). So we had our pints... I listened to a few "drinking stories"... and we left to shoot more things!
Saturday: WORK! AHH! I came into work at 11:58 (I normally like to be earlier than two minutes) to have my manager, Andrea, open the door for me. The first thing she says is "do you know anything about computers?" "Finally!" I thought to myself... as I have been under the impression that Andrea thinks I'm an idiot. So I said "yeah... I do" playing it all cool. So I went downstairs as she was telling me the problem, and I checked everything out with the connections first... and it turns out that our store has the weirdest looking surge protector ever... which you had to press and hold the on button for it to work. So that was the problem... so she thanked me and I went back upstairs to help open. About five minutes later, while I'm trying to set out the waffle cones/bowls, she comes back upstairs. There's another problem... this one is bad. I went downstairs and tried everything I could think of to get Windows to boot (as it wouldn't)... I checked the bios and the computer booted from the CDROM which I thought was weird... apparently the company has all the stores set up with the same computer configuration for ease of data transfer store-to-store. So we called the computer tech support of Coldstone (some other company), and Andrea handed me the phone because I "knew more about computers" than she did. After talking with the woman for a while about what was wrong... I heard a familiar beeping and I said "I don't mean to pry, but are you getting into a car?" and she said "no... I'm actually getting out of a car". Wow! Computer support from the road... she's good. At any rate, my store's going to need a new computer (or at least a new hard drive)... so the rest of the work day was unusually stressful, as we were worried about the registers and the payroll and the money for a new hard drive or male pattern baldness or whatever we had to worry about.
Ken showed up a little before I was done, ordered a Mudpie Mojo which I made for him, and we were out. On the way back to my apartment, we stopped at the Old Town Pub and had a couple pints of Guinness. I apparently drink it very fast, as I was done with my second one when he still had about half of his second left. Life's not a race, I know... and he was busy talking about how hot the waitress with the indiscernible accent was (we think Romanian? or at least one of the Baltic States... perhaps she's from Georgia [Go Bulldogs! {that made no sense}]). But that's why I love Ken being around... because, without Ken, I just sit there and I say "that's my waitress"... but Ken says "oh... she's hot" and then I have to think about it too and I'm not just sitting there being anti-social to my waitress, I'm being nervous around an attractive waitress. Much better. Anyway... two is most definitely my limit, as I felt very full afterwards (because it is like drinking bread).
After the Guinness, I called Laura from the street and pretended to be way more drunk than I was (sorry for deceiving you dearest, but you'll believe what you want to believe). Ken was also accosted by that guy who's given me the same "Hamburger Helper" story now three different times. Ken gave him money... I'm sick of hearing that story as it is, no doubt, a lie.
The rest of the night was dedicated to hitting things over the head with the butt of a gun. Seriously.
Sunday: GAMEDAY! Wake up early... ick... and drive from Chicago to Green Bay (only about three hours, I was surprised). But it was a good trip, if early, and we listened to all sorts of punk and other bands that I normally probably wouldn't be exposed to. So that was cool... and then we got there... and I could tell that Ken was really excited because there was jumping up and down. Yeah... but we quickly stopped jumping and got brats and they were delicious... mmm... brats. The game started... things looked pretty shitty for my Packers... Ken and I started saying funny stuff and the guys around us started joking with us too. It was fun... there weren't any REALLY drunk people within earshot of us (like at the Philly game), so it was a pretty fun atmosphere. My Packers DID end up winning, mostly because Ken and I called the "interception returned for a touchdown" play right before that happened. Yeah... it was weird, but I know I have that much influence, so I'm fine with it.
After the game, we just drove back to Chicago and hung out the rest of the night.
Monday: The last day... I got up just early enough to go to work... Ken met me at work and I took my break so I could walk him to the station to say goodbye. It was a "man" goodbye... only quick enough to say we'd see each other again soon and not long enough for either of us to be emotional about it. Then I proceeded to have a crappy "want this day to be over" time at work... and I went home.
Upon my return, I noticed that Ken had put his "MDW" luggage tag on my wall of pictures. It was sweet... and I teared up just a little. I think I'll probably leave it on my wall... as it seems to fit with everything else. Then I remembered that he wanted me to post a magnetic poem he had been working on... so I went to the fridge and saw another poem. First I'll post what he had been working on while he was here:
"shall you tempt yon villianly wicked breast
perhaps she quencheth thy wanton codpiece
get thee hither curse'd woman
thy torment be my death"
Tres good, no? I know you love it. But it wasn't the best thing that he wrote... because when I went to look at the poem, I saw this:
"I loathe nothing more
than saying farewell to a love'd friend"
and THAT's when I started crying. I couldn't help it. It's been a long time since I've seen some of my old school crew... and I'm getting pretty sick of meeting new people... I just want people who know and understand me, not people who say "I can't tell if you're joking or serious" every five minutes.
And, for the first time since I moved in, my apartment feels lonely, empty. The space on the floor that was my bed for four nights is now just a space on my floor... the dishes have piled up since there were two of us... and the air is light and quiet.
My apartment is too small for two... this city is too big for one.