Mar. 31st, 2005 09:18 am
U2, U2,U2,U2, Foreigner!
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muckefuckMartinis last night = roarin' success. And I'm not even hung-over! (This despite jello shots, gratis, from my SBIL. What did ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bunj say? "I'm 17 again!")
I did drag my feet this morning and waltz in half-an-hour late for my 8:30 shift. But it's not my fault! I blame the CTA; I should've been only fifteen minutes late!
My legs aren't even worn out, despite all their stretching. First there was the latter-day Lewis and Clark Expedition to the gelateria next to Mirai Sushi. "It's only four blocks!" intrepid native guidehis_regard told us. But he forgot that, though all of Chicago was once a swamp, some areas are more atavistic than others. The downpour had left massive puddles at every street corner between North and Division. (On the west side of the street, that is; when we switched to the east side, progress became much less challenging.)
The downpour! I almost missed it entirely, but the spitting rain gave way to serious droplets right as I got off the bus and to buckets moments later. By then I'd made it to the safety of the capacious awning at the Damen entrance to the Double Door. The Blue Line Club Car was only metres away--I could even see my SBIL through one of the windows--but I was enjoying the setting too much to move indoors. The rain pounding on the awning sounded fantastic. There were intermittent screams--of pleasure?--as pedestrians ran for cover; I saw two people walking as one up the sidewalk, the taller leaning over to shield his lover's head. The sky in the west had the eeriest yellow tinge; far from tornado green, but not so much so that you couldn't imagine it becoming that.
In any case, this was all over by the time we left the bar. Instead, we had the pleasure of a fresh-washed world and more warmth and humidty than we've felt in months. It was so enjoyable that I walkedhis_regard most of the way back home to Lincoln Park, through "the city's ripped backside" to the corridors of yuppie consumerism, before cabbing it back home.
bunj say? "I'm 17 again!")I did drag my feet this morning and waltz in half-an-hour late for my 8:30 shift. But it's not my fault! I blame the CTA; I should've been only fifteen minutes late!
My legs aren't even worn out, despite all their stretching. First there was the latter-day Lewis and Clark Expedition to the gelateria next to Mirai Sushi. "It's only four blocks!" intrepid native guide
his_regard told us. But he forgot that, though all of Chicago was once a swamp, some areas are more atavistic than others. The downpour had left massive puddles at every street corner between North and Division. (On the west side of the street, that is; when we switched to the east side, progress became much less challenging.)The downpour! I almost missed it entirely, but the spitting rain gave way to serious droplets right as I got off the bus and to buckets moments later. By then I'd made it to the safety of the capacious awning at the Damen entrance to the Double Door. The Blue Line Club Car was only metres away--I could even see my SBIL through one of the windows--but I was enjoying the setting too much to move indoors. The rain pounding on the awning sounded fantastic. There were intermittent screams--of pleasure?--as pedestrians ran for cover; I saw two people walking as one up the sidewalk, the taller leaning over to shield his lover's head. The sky in the west had the eeriest yellow tinge; far from tornado green, but not so much so that you couldn't imagine it becoming that.
In any case, this was all over by the time we left the bar. Instead, we had the pleasure of a fresh-washed world and more warmth and humidty than we've felt in months. It was so enjoyable that I walked
his_regard most of the way back home to Lincoln Park, through "the city's ripped backside" to the corridors of yuppie consumerism, before cabbing it back home.