Image by llemanie via Flickr
A story in real life. (Best read out loud and kinda fast like I talk)
Kev and I were driving today from 168th and Kedzie in Chicago Heights IL, where we were for a job. Kev wanted to go to Indiana (yes, state) to get a pack of cigarettes (right? He should quit) and save $2.00. They cost $8 in Chicago and out there they run around $5. So he drove across 162nd St. It changed to 165th St. Then it changed to 168th St. Then it went back to 162nd and-- dead ended by the overpass.
So by now the sun is starting to go down and we are in this old neighborhood where steel mill workers used to live. Back in the 50’s it was state of the art, everyone wanted to live there.
Tonight there were 3 kids in the middle of the street, one with no coat (and it’s in the 20’s) looking like they were going to fight. I mean there was shouting, running back and forth, fist shaking - But they were like 5 years old. Funny as all get out. We went around them (I was hoping the little so and so’s didn’t have a gun), did a U turn and went back by them. They flipped us the bird and I almost pee’d my pants laughing so hard.
Kev drove for about ½ hour (seriously – and it felt like we were going into darker and darker territory – like walking on the moon) and next thing you know, we are in some factory right on the lake. The security guard would have let us go through, she wasn’t paying any attention. A skinny young woman wearing a flannel shirt and a hard hat. Didn’t want to come out of her little booth (we might be burglars or murderers or something).
There was no one there. No cars were parked. No lights were on. No fires burning. Nothing. It’s almost dark. Old old tall funky looking machines and buildings. Like we were in Transformers or something. We had to get out of there. So we turned around – and two blocks down the cops had Cline Avenue closed. So now we have to try and figure out where is North – and how to get back home.
But wait – Kev still hasn’t found a place to buy cigarettes and he’s starting to Jones. He’s getting louder and louder and saying" WTF WTF?" A lot. He’s pounding the steering wheel. Loudly saying “I’m not mad at you. I’m not mad at you”. I’m thinking “Yes you are, you just can’t say so. I don’t want the damn cigarettes – you do”.
I’m also starting to wonder if these big machines are going to turn into something alive and I’ll have to find Siah LeBouf and figure out how to fight them. My feet hurt, I’ve been walking around Wal-Mart’s and Meijer’s all day and I just want to go home. Not fight big buildings. Jees.
Finally we run up on Indianapolis Blvd. Kev starts to singing an old blues song. He’s happy. Kev gets his cigarettes. We go home. All is right with the world.
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