Dark, street lit sweat left damp shadows on the air mattress sheets, like bacon grease on paper towels.
"Time to make the Go-Nuts."
Sometimes I make inside jokes that are just for me.
Usually around 6am.
Lauren went back to sleep.
I drove to Albany Park and picked up a guy named Spendy.
We were to drive down to Hickory Hills, where one of us would drive a truck back to a lighting warehouse in the city.
I immediately messed up the soul handshake he offered, diluting it into an awkward vertical boy scout handshake.
Whatever.
It's 7:30am.
Car Talk doesn't even come on for another 90 minutes.
In Hickory Hills, we explored the rental truck garage, looking for signs of life.
I climbed some stairs that led to an indoor rooftop of supplies.
Eventually an easy going guy in coveralls found us, but couldn't find the truck we had reserved.
The only truck he could find was a 20 foot box truck with a manual transmission.
"Can you drive stick?" Spendy asked, 'cuz Spendy couldn't.
I could and climbed up into the cab.
"It's a nice truck," said the easy going guy in coveralls.
"6-speed, air brakes..."
I got nervous.
"Air brakes?"
Oh no.
I drove air brakes once.
Ten years ago.
It was stressful and difficult and dangerous.
And just like that we were off.
The shifter was long like a sword.
It jutted out forward from the floor, like it wanted to be a parking brake.
Or like it had killed the parking brake and now ruled the truck as a dictator.
First gear was hard to find.
I had to sit on the edge of the seat to shift.
My forearms used the steering wheel as a fulcrum.
The hydraulic springs made for a lumpy ride.
It felt like driving a fat metal camel.
At the tollbooth I pressed the brakes and came to a harsh stop 20 feet in front of the attendant.
Then struggled to find first gear.
The air brakes sneezed and wheezed.
They seemed irritated.
I was now glad it was 8am on a Saturday morning.
Less humans to maim.
The expressway was nice.
I even put the radio on.
But all I could get was John Mellencamp.
It seems NPR isn't a preset on these 20 foot box trucks.
Hey but ain't that America.
Pulling off onto Western Avenue proved more complicated than I had hoped.
The light turned green but I couldn't find first gear.
I tried and I tried.
It felt like I was being forced to find the clitoris on a drunk dead girl at a frat party while asshole douchebags with video cameras lewdly jeered on.
Well, maybe it wasn't that bad.
But that green light sat there for a while and so did the truck.
And there were a few horns.
Fuck it, I got it to the lighting warehouse, drove Spendy to Fletcher in my van and ended my work day by 9:30am.
Lauren's folks and I enjoyed brunch at M Henry.
We beat the crowd and ate well.
Poached eggs, poblano pepper & asparagus quiche, blackberry blisscakes.
"Fucken' yum yum, man," I chose not to say.
Then I gave them a driving tour of Chicago.
In the late 90's I used to drive those stupid trolleys and give goofy tours of the city.
Some of my stale jokes came back to me.
Near the museum campus there stands a statue of Christopher Columbus, with one hand in the air.
"That's a statue of Christopher Columbus when he discovered..the taxi."
Still gets a laugh.
We saw the Mag Mile, Hancock Building, Tribune Tower, Wrigley Building, Daley Plaza, Thompson Center, City Hall, Board of Trade, Carbide and Carbon Building, Jewelers Building, Trump Tower, IBM Building, Marina City, Leo Burnett Building, 333 W Wacker, Merchandise Mart, Lyric Opera, Chicago Stock Exchange, Sears Tower, Lower Wacker construction, Smurfit Stone Building, Art Institute, The Bowman & Spearman, the "cliff dwellers", Millenium Park, Grant Park, Buckingham Fountain, Soldier Field, Field Museum, Shedd Aquarium, Adler Planetarium, lakefront view of the skyline, Navy Pier, Lake Shore Drive, and much much more.
It lasted 14 hours and they loved it.
For dinner we drove out to Arlington Heights and met my mom at California Pizza Kitchen.
We decided on a casual spot, but I forget why.
I think so when the bill came it wouldn't be a big thing.
All of our parents'es all got along with one another.
I was even less of an asshole toward my mom than usual!
Then we walked to the Arlington Heights Center for the Performing Arts and watched Lauren reprise her role as Lisa Madigan in Rod Blagojevich: Superstar! The show still holds up a year and a 23 hung juries later.
Afterward and for no reason, Arlington Heights was throwing itself a party in the street.
Some of the cast hung out with our folks, drinking plastic cups of beer and wine under a tent without enough chairs. Meanwhile an AOR cover band blasted out spot-on versions of Journey, Boston and Guns 'n' Roses chestnuts.
I was getting the social yawns, offering very little in conversation.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day, starting at 4:45am.
I had to economize my speech and friendliness.
We walked our respective parents back to their cars and decided it was a good night.
My mom even made plans to come out to Pittsburgh with us for Thanksgiving.
We'll have to figure out the logistics of sanity on that one, but ultimately this is a good thing.
Verdict: Win
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