Round Peg, Square Hole

Until today, I thought one of the most unfuckable people in the world was the guy my mom has been dating since I was 15.  I'd describe him for you but I just had processed meat for lunch and I'm already not very good at keeping that down.

The Chicago Hot Dog.  With all those pickled vegetables, where's the room for the cream cheese? #seattledog

Everything has changed.  I try not to judge people too harshly unless I am given a reason, so I almost felt bad about this guy I temporarily coexisted with on the bus, with his size x-large K-Mart wifebeater hugging his midsection, constraining what can only be imagined as an outie belly button the size of a tennis ball and showing off a skin tag on his shoulder blade that I would describe as a birthday balloon deflated only enough for the party to have been maybe 4 or 5 days ago.  He had on saggy black basketball shorts and something around his head to the effect of an old engine room rag twirled into a thin strip, likely to keep the sweat on his bald head from dripping onto his face, which was being violently molested by his finger around the nasal area.

Alas, I was given a reason to comment after all of these thoughts had already run through my head.  This man was standing on the bus in all of his lack of physical glory, walking to the front, and as the bus approached a stop, would hurry the people getting on the bus -- no one moved fast enough for him.

All the same, when passengers would be disembarking, he would chime in, "Hurry!  Hurry!  Come on, now!"  The young women getting off the bus were treated no better, but were I'm sure feeling like ladies when he would rush them with direct eye contact on their tits and asses.  Dick.

It's certainly a strange coincidence that after I got off this bus with this fat piece of shit, I get home, check the mail, and I have something delivered to me from W.I.T.S, or World Instructor Training Schools.  You see, back in June of 2012 (a year ago), I had finished up a 9 week personal training certification course.  The whole process was kind of a joke.  It was once a week, the instructor was nice a hot, beefy drill sergeant or even a lean, fit, perky young lady with a positive outlook on life.  It was a pear shaped woman in her late 50's/early 60's who was apparently some sort of dance instructor who wore a pressured grin the entire 9 weeks and had a short temper.  Ok, that last part might not be quite true, but she looked a lot like my bitter, awful drama teacher back in high school, so that's where that might have come from.

Anyway, this entire class had very little hands-on training whatsoever and I honestly didn't feel like I learned a lot.  And probably didn't, because when it came to taking the final, I passed the hands-on stuff with flying colors (things were kind of a 'duh' in general) and barely passed the written with a 74% or something thereabouts.  Either way, I passed.  So to complete this certification, all I needed was to do a 30 hour internship at a gym.  Yeah, that's nothing.

I did what I needed to do, sent in the forms a few weeks before I moved to Chicago, and then today I received a large yellow envelope in the mail.   I brought it to my room, ripped it open, looked through all the papers about continuing education, business certification courses and whatnot, and finally at the bottom of the pile was my certificate.  

Pretty cool.  Except I just looked it over and it's good for two years from the completion of my course.  Which was June 9, 2012.  So it's good for less than a year now.  Great.  $650 later...

Will I use it?  We'll see.  Will I continue my efforts in becoming more certified with perhaps a more well-rounded program?  If I get into the personal training business this year, then yeah, probably.  Maybe an employer will help me get on track with a more valid certification.  I've been told that these W.I.T.S certifications aren't the most widely accepted.  

Maybe I'll do a personal personal training gig.  Like, through Craigslist or something.  I'm more interested in motivating those who want a lifestyle change when it comes to their diet, getting healthy, and losing weight.  Those TV shows where people are motivated and put in the effort into changing themselves to look better and potentially living much longer have always flirted among my interests.  I'm not so much about helping people bulk up, because let's face it... I need help with that myself.

Chicagotube

Nothing special.  A video I made in the past week with a bunch of outdated information that y'all already know about.

Enjoy!

The Good Stuff

Call this premature and I'll knock on wood or whatever, but I'm kind of in love with this job I've taken at the wine and whiskey bar.  That reminds me... I need to call this sushi place and tell them I can't come in tonight... or ever.  Its been a week since I last worked there and I've known for a couple days now that I didn't want to go back in, but I've been kind of lazy when it comes to calling them and telling them I don't want anything more to do with them.  I can't muster up feeling bad about it either since I gave them 5 hours of my life for no pay, so screw it.  I'll call them eventually.  Or maybe go in and try the sushi (I hear it's some of the best in Chicago) and then let them know.  We'll see.  I have all day.

Anyway!  About this new job.  I went in for my first day on Monday.  It was a very slow day which was perfect.  I got to understand the nuances discerning the work on a bar on a boat, which was my previous job, and working at an actual land based bar.  One of my favorite differences so far is the fact that at a real bar, all the liquor stays in its place permanently, unless you want to clean the shelves or rearrange some things.  Back on the boats, you had to bring out a good 40something or so bottles of liquor every day from some different part of the boat, and then put them back at the end of the night.  Such a pain.

That's a very small thing though.  This position is rather glorious I must say.  This place sells quite high end spirits and wine.  I've had very limited exposure to the good stuff, so on my first day the owner of the place and I got to work on changing that.

-- Have you ever noticed that there is a word missing from the English language?  I'm not talking about from the outside perspective where something doesn't translate properly.  I'm talking about when you start talking then realize there is a word missing from your vocabulary that you're certain if it existed, you would know that word.  Here's an analogy.

hunger:fed::thirst:______

Fill in the blank.  You can't!  If you're hungry, I will bring you food and I have fed you.  If you're thirsty, I will bring you water and I have ______ you.  What have I done to you??  Let's call this word sponged for now. --

He sponged me.  Oh, he sponged me all right.  He sponged me right and good.  He sponged me with some of the best shit they carry.  I was shown to appreciate the different characteristics amongst several different scotches, as well as an assortment of American whiskeys.   I tried at least 10 different types of wine, and even practiced making a few of their signature beverages... and drank them in their entirety.  How I did not leave drunk is beyond me.  Perhaps buzzed in the first hour of my shift, but I honestly left feeling just fine.  Probably because of all of the Andersonville Midsommarfest drinking I had been exposed to in the previous 2 days.

It was pretty amazing!  I learned a lot and made a decent share of income considering how few people actually came in that evening.  But that happens when you're serving the good stuff, I suppose.


The next day I was open to a plethora of new experiences as well.  One of those was champagne tasting.  Now, I'm no novice to tasting wine.  I'm from Washington state, land of the largest amount of wineries and acres of grapes outside of California in the United States.  Now, am I a pro?  Definitely not?  Am I good?  That's for sure arguable.  But I get it.  I know the process, I know what to look for, I know what I think.  And of course when doing all this in front of people who have been doing it as a living for a number of years, I shut down and keep my opinions to myself and know not what to say when asked my opinions.  Naturally.

Champagne tasting... now this is a completely different element.  This isn't a very common practice, especially among people in my skill set.  Champagne is expensive and it doesn't last long after its open.
My second day at the bar, the wine/spirits rep to whom I was introduced and thusly got me the job at the place stopped in with a handsome French man representing Champagne Lanson.  We popped some bottles, tasted, I for the most part was ignored (which I thanked the high heavens for... I definitely didn't want to be asked my opinions on my first champagne tasting.  "Umm, good?  Uhh... there's bubbles!")  I was included every once in a while whenever a word was brought up that they thought I might not know.  Yes, I was talked down to a lot, but that's to be expected.  I was not going to tell these people, "Blargh, I've been tasting wine for years in Washington!  Of course I know what that is!"  It was a bit trying, but I remained quiet and open to whatever they wanted to teach me.  If I knew the word, then I learned it a second time.  Being cocky and too confident is not going to get me far in this job and if I ignore any helpful suggestions on vocabulary, then I could be missing out on a lot of the wine world that I actually don't know about.  Pro-tip from Angel!  Don't be a dick!

The rest of the day was good.  Waited on a couple tables, nothing too difficult.  It's wine and whiskey, occasionally some cheese, and even less commonly a cocktail.

There are times at this place I definitely feel out of my element.  The first day not so much.  The owner is this magnificent beam of light who has an incredible amount of faith in his employees, which is something you don't come across too often.  My second day was very informational and I worked with who I am going to say is something of their 2nd-in-command guy there.  Handsome, charming, intelligent, has an opera-singing girlfriend who looks like Anna Chlumpsky from My Girl if she grew up to be more thin and more beautiful than she currently is.  But there was a lot of "you probably have never heard of these types of grapes," and "I'll teach you that word later," which sort of knocked me down a few pegs.  But that's what the military does, right?  Degradation until they can build you to their own brand of perfection?

Maybe I'm the grapes.  Grapes are fine as they are.  Sweet, smooth, enjoy on occasion but not every day.  But you break down the grapes.  You take from them what you want, expose them to a bunch of processes they otherwise would never have been exposed, and after a period of time you come out with a product so special and so rare, you can then put your label on it and call it the taste that represents you.

Don't Say No to AIDS

This past weekend was the Andersonville Midsommarfest.  Midsommarfest is an event celebrating the businesses of the Andersonville neighborhood, and their underlying appreciation of the Swedish culture.

For this event, I met up with the Chicago AIDS Foundation for the first time to be a volunteer.  Do my part, help spread the word on HIV and AIDS.  Have something to do.  I met up with this girl who was organizing the whole thing, Adrienne, and she kind of gave me the down low on what's going on.  We had flyers to pass out to bring awareness to the AIDS Run and Walk.  Sounds easy enough.

Side note: Adrienne and I both talked about our uncertainty about getting to the street festival as it was our first time there.  We're both new to Chicago!  Oh, not only that, Adrienne is from Seattle!  Well, Kent, but hey.  Same area.  Even though it's still Kent.  

More people showed up for this AIDS Volunteer thing.  At first I thought maybe we would have a booth, pass out some free shit, mingle with the locals, etc. etc.  No, we were passing out flyers.  So off we broke up to individuals to do our assignment after I got as much info as I could handle about this AIDS Run and Walk thing and started passing out these flyers.

It kind of sucked.  A couple people wanted them, but that was after I had to actually go up to people and blurt out the mouthful, "AIDS Run and Walk?" or whatever way I happened to be saying it.  It felt more wordy at the time.

Then came the rejection.  A lot of people weren't interested.  I'm sure a ton of people took flyers because saying no to anything promoting the fight of AIDS makes you look like a dick.  It just does.

Eventually I ran into Adrienne and this other girl helping organize this thing, and apparently in the time since I lef them, they had accomplished the beginning of a search for a street vendor cord dog.  So I joined them.  I was tired of being rejected after going through all the trouble of going up and talking to complete strangers.  I just don't do that.

The whole AIDS thing lasted 2 hours and then we were let go.  I can say I saw it through to the end even though a lot of us really didn't do anything.  In fact, I excused myself for a good 45 minutes after I "wowed" everyone with my camera and realized I left my SD card at home and had to go all the way to Walgreens to buy another one.  Everyone was completely understanding.

Too many dogs to take pictures of!

After the whole AIDS thing was over, I got drunk.  I met up with someone who I had hung out with before, and I got to meet a lot of his friends.  We ended up at a little house party very nearby.  A gay house party in my 2nd weekend in Chicago.  Not bad!

Everyone was really nice, met a lot of great people who had lots of tips about Chicago and the job scene and the gay scene, and even some plastic surgery stories which were pretty interesting to say the least.

We returned to the festival to what an ABBA cover band perform which was pretty fun, and I later excused myself so I could go home and get some rest.

Gays out in full force in Andersonville

The next day was Andersonville Midsommarfest AIDS volunteering part II.  I called in.  Yesterday had been so pointless, and I was also pretty much dead from alcohol and sun exposure so I ended up sleeping most of the day.  Well deserved, I'd say, as I have been a busy bee since before I landed in this city and I need a nice Sunday full of R&R.

I ended up back at Midsommarfest in the evening so I could join a couple people to watch this local cover band called Rock Candy perform.  They were lots of fun.  Check them out!

Then the next day I had my first day of work at this new wine and whiskey bar.  That will be an entry of it's own.  How did it go?  Well I guess we'll just have to wait and see!

1 Week in Chicago

Found this little guy outside my apartment today

Have no fear!  A legit job is here!

So through my newly discovered talent of networking, I showed up to meet this guy I've chatted with at this wine and whiskey bar here in Chicago, in the gay neighborhood of Boystown.  He told me to bring a resume, as he is good friends with the owner and is one of their wine and spirits distributors.

I showed up, they asked if I was drinking anything and they offered me an Old Fashioned, so I took it.  The owner had no idea I was there for an interview, but when the guy I was meeting asked me for my resume, the owner took notice and wanted a peek as well.  He then caught on that his friend was trying to get my a job.

The owner took me aside, told me to grab my Old Fashioned, and we began to discuss my credentials.  It was very Mad Men.

After some small talk and some questions you're not really supposed to ask at an interview, he told me he would like to give me a try.  I start Monday.

I have Wednesday off and I am scheduled to go into the sushi place, but I think how it's going to work is I am going to go in, ask if I earned any money when I worked last Wednesday, and if they say no because I'm a trainee, I am going to leave and not look back.

If they say I did make money... well, I'll take the cash and probably still leave because that's the day I think I am having a Seattle from come visit me so we can hit the town.

Things are developing quite nicely, wouldn't you say?  Not bad for being here a week.

Personality Pay

This sushi place... yeah.

I went in the other day for my first shift.  Right away training began.  Skip the tax forms, skip the background check, skip it all!  Because we're not paying you!  The customers are!

This is a nice place.  Clean, expensive, BYOB (which is a whole 'nother thing I won't even get into.  I've never heard of bring your own booze to a bar... other than bringing wine for a $15 corkage fee or whatever.)  So when I started getting a little more comfortable around the people who were training me, I asked, "So, I'm not from here, but whenever I've started a job, we've had to fill out tax forms and direct deposit slips and all that stuff..." and the girl basically said something to the effect of, "yeah, we're supposed to but we don't."
We don't get an hourly wage.  We just make tips.  Except trainees don't make tips.  They make nothing.  And training is 2 weeks.

Fuck. That.

I am not here in the hopes that one day I might be a skilled enough sushi server so I can live on the hopes that my tables are treating me well enough to make a decent living.  My next shift isn't until Wednesday, so I am going to go in and ask, "So do I get paid at all for the shift I worked last week?" If they hand me a wad of cash, cool.  I can deal with whatever little they pay me just until I find something better.  If the answer is "No, you're a trainee," then I'll be heading out the door.

Hopefully I find something before then so I can skip it altogether.  Well, I won't do that of course since there is a chance there's money waiting there for me, and I did give them 5 hours of my life, so...

I went to an interview yesterday.  It was at this fun, hip restaurant/bar and the way I was dressed was not so fun or hip.  I wore a suit.  Everyone else applying wore jeans and a polo.  My disposition was as stern and serious as always.  I was told straight up that they hire people based on their personality.

Fuck.  My personality sucks!  When I first meet someone that is.  And this guy just so happened to be very good looking so that didn't help me at all.  I was nervous.  Luckily, he was not only attractive, but a very nice guy.  At this interview, I was given a homework assignment.

I'm new to Chicago, so there are a whole bunch of places I've never been to.  This establishment is one of those places.  Since I haven't had the chance to get to know the city that well, this handsome man was kind enough to extend me an offer: Come back in on Friday or Saturday night and get to know the vibe.  Chat with the bartenders.  Mingle with the people.  Then I am to email him after that and tell him if I think I am a good fit for the restaurant.

Umm, duh. I'M PERFECT.  I want the job!

So I'll go in tonight by myself, check it out, loosen up, have a merry ole' time, and then I will email the guy and tell him how much fun I had and how I'm going to be a great fit and how this place seems perfect for me, and how perfect I am for the place!

And then I will have my first shift and I will be stiff and nervous and hopefully I'll be able to loosen up a bit before they fire me.

And I feel like you might not want to read this block of text without pictures, so here's my roommate's cat helping himself to my glass of water.

I Have Arrived

About the title... yes, I've been in Chicago for 4 days now, but it's taken me a while to actually get used to the idea that this is now my home.  It probably still hasn't fully sunken in since I don't have various expansive circles of friends or anything, but I've made advances to make myself more and more a citizen of this midwest metropolis.

I've changed my address on a lot of my online accounts... though not all.  I need to get on that.  Though I'm hoping if any of these business responsible for my phone or finances needed to get a hold of me, they'd find a more immediate way than through the postal service.  So I'm mostly missing out on ads and stuff (I would hope, since some of those have addresses two or even three residences ago.)

Today in the mail, I got a tiny piece of treasure that carries quite a hefty pricetag.

Within that envelope is a credit card-sized RFID-containing piece of plastic that will allow me on an unlimited amount of busses or el trains throughout the city of Chicago, the Chicago Card... at only $100 a month.  I wouldn't pay that much in Seattle, but 

a.) Seattle doesn't have trains... well, we're getting there, but far too late and none that concern me.

b.) In Chicago, there are no bus transfers, so I was paying upwards to $12 to $15 a day going around and about the city.

I still have a $20 3-day pass to get me on transportation that I bought yesterday, and may have gotten its worth for... however I don't think it matters if I start using my Chicago Card now or in 2 more days because they'll be charging me for another month on the 27th.  Oh well.  Moving and learning about your new surroundings is known to be rather expensive.

Another big change came a day or so ago when I decided to take the plunge and let the world know I was telling Chicago, "I have arrived!"

That's right.  It's now Facebook Official.  My friends and strangers alike can access my Facebook, see that even though I am a "Seattle Boy," I now am in Chicago.

These Happy Days Are Yours And Mine

Yesterday I felt obligated to blog about something, but if I had, then it was going to be a piece about the culture shock of coming from a place where plastic bags and styrofoam are banned, you must recycle by law, and everyone wears a helmet, to a place where all of those things are the opposite.   It would have been boring and uninspired, so I'm glad I decided to hang out with new friends instead.

Yes, I've made a friend!  How about that.  Everyone was right... my bright, shining personality of puppies and rainbows really shone through to attract the attention of a brand new beginning of a social life here in the Windy City.

This morning, he and I went downtown to go shopping.  What I found funny was this was the first time I had been near the iconic buildings of downtown Chicago since I moved here.  I went to them all when I was here back in April.

2nd and 3rd tallest buildings in the citty, as seen from the tallest.

While downtown, my goal was to find something totally awesome to wear to a job interview that I got from the guy I'm staying with.  His best friend owns a sushi restaurant, so he told me to go in at 4:30 today for an interview.  I got the clothes I need, put them on, and realized... this outfit need a tie.  Luckily, I had bought a tie earlier while downtown.  Not for this outfit, but it would have to do as somehow my ties didn't make it from Seattle to Chicago, which I was just this morning realizing.

It all clashed.  Black jacket, gray vest, white shirt, with a spray pattern of navy blue on the collar.   And the tie was pink.  It was for cancer!  And it was $10, about $50 cheaper than any other tie at Macy's.

But I made it work.  Unfortunately, I did not have such an interview outfit when I had to go to my interview the day after I flew in, which was at a gay restaurant here in town where men in drag dance around in some sort of burlesque show or something.  Haven't seen it myself, but I went in for a short, 3 minute interview where it felt like they weren't expecting me, was asked, "Do you know what kind of establishment this is?" as if they thought I was straight.  ME!  So my hopes aren't high for that place, but they told me I would definitely be getting a call, which I hope I do and I hope it's a yes because that place sounds fucking awesome.

So on my way I went to this sushi restaurant.  I met with the owner, Mike, and this other girl who works there, both of whom asked me about my age which I don't think is legal, and discussed with me when to set up my first shift.

That was easy.  What'd I get all dressed up mismatched for?

That was good news.  A stable job.  Not sure about the bartending job I was promised when I showed up to Chicago.  That guy is still out of town.  But in case that doesn't work out, for now I at least am going to be serving sushi.  And hopefully making drinks at a drag bar too.  I'll keep you posted.

After the good news, I decided I was going to treat myself to a ginger ale!  I deserved it.  I got a job by showing up.  So off I went to Walgreens to seek out a ginger ale.  I saw one at a Caribou Coffee yesterday that was unfiltered, so the liquid looked clear yet there was a cloudy mess on the bottom of the bottle.  I was very curious, but I had just ordered a tall skinny vanilla latté so it would have to wait.

When I walked into Walgreens, a hispanic man in a red shirt asked me if I had time for an HIV screening.  Funny you should ask.  My new friend invited me to go with him and his roommate to go HIV screening with them.  I declined.  Felt that was kind of a private thing.  Private, yet necessary.  I haven't been screen since before my 2 year relationship which ended back in December, so it was high time I go and do something about that.  Usually my first reaction when propositioned to take part in anything that was not in my initial plans is a "no" if they're lucky enough to get any sort of response, but this was something I really should do.  So I did it.

The first thing that crossed my mind is whether or not Walgreens knew these men were in their store pricking people with needles and taking their blood, and if this was legit.  When I was taken back by the pharmacy and into a room that was part of the permanent building, those doubts went away and I was open to all sorts of questions about how big of a gay slut I have been in the past.

The man assessing me chimed in that he was also a Puerto Rican (by the way, readers, I'm part Puerto Rican) and was definitely hitting on me.  I'm usually very aloof to this kind of behavior deviated towards me, so this guy must have been at it hard.  Hispanics usually are.  We're a very sexual people.  I mean, he told me this was going to be a finger blood draw and then he told me to pull down my pants and followed it by a bunch of sexual innuendos.  Along I went with it... I mean, I didn't actually pull down my pants, but I laughed and let it go on, and then he told me I was very serious.  He told me to pull down my pants and was about to stab me with a needle.  How was I supposed to be acting?

So he used his little tool to prick me (hehe), and I didn't feel it at all.  It was pretty awesome.  I had the face that was awaiting the pains of childbirth but it came to be unwarranted, and then turned into the face of someone who is experiencing the relief of just having given birth... or something to that effect.

He swirled my blood into a little vial, dropped it into some sort of tiny bowl, dropped vial #2 into a tiny bowl, and dropped vial #3 into a tiny bowl.  The bottom of the bowl ended up showing 1 very clear dot.  Congratulations, I'm not pregnant!  Nor do I have HIV.  The test wouldn't determine if I was pregnant or not, but I'm pretty sure that's the case, but it said I more than likely did not contract HIV three or more months ago.

After he found out I was clean, that's when we got into the heavy petting and he showed me that magic that two Puerto Rican men can have together.  Just kidding.  That didn't happen.  But he did ask me if I wanted to volunteer for the Chicago Foundation of AIDS something-or-another.  

Initial reaction: No.  Still thirsty for ginger ale.  This is not the course on which I was heading.

But I said yes, I would.  I mean, the way I answered it probably make me sound like kind of a douche.  "Sure, I just moved here so it's not like I have anything else going on."

So he should be contacting me to possibly volunteer for this Market Days I've been hearing so much about and for gay pride.  Volunteering will be a great way to meet people and become part of something great.  Oh, and I guess part of it will be preventing the spread of HIV or whatever.

There we go!  A day of shopping and really good news.  It's sunny outside right now so I am going to head on out on my very first run here in Chicago.  Oh the places I'll go.

Strangers with Candy

I made some questionable decisions to get to where I am now.  A stranger called me "either completely stupid or way too trusting," but hey, I got here and I'm safe!


The part where I came to Chicago and met someone who was to be my roommate and that backfired has already been covered in the first entry.  And then I mentioned I went to craigslist to find a place to stay, and I found one where I can stay temporarily until things get settled here.

After establishing that, a day or so before I arrived I went to craigslist yet again for a Rideshare.  Flying into Midway and needing to get to Rogers Park is no stone's throw away.

As you can see, it's really, really, really kind of far.  If I were to take a taxi (I looked it up on a taxi calculator) it would have been in the ballpark of $70.  Especially because I flew in right during rush hour.

So I had a few replies from CL, most of them saying, "you know you can take the train!"  Wonderful suggestion!  Did I forget to mention I had a 50lb suitcase with broken wheels, 2 duffle bags, one of which had its handle broken off in Sea Tac, and a giant camera bag that holds my 17" Macbook Pro, a large, clunky dSLR, and whatever other things I happened to shove in there to save space.

Well, yes, I did forget to mention that.  But that is the case!

In this ad that I published, I had a kind of bullshit preface that claimed "friends give friends rides from the airport, so let's be friends!" but I was very honest and upfront with the fact that if I never see this person again, it won't be any skin off my back.  I just needed a ride.  One person offers some pretty negative feedback on the bluntness of my ad.  One person said, "sorry, I would, but I work, even though I work near MDW and live in Rogers park!" and send me pictures of an impossibly muscular guy with no shirt on and said we should hang out sometime.  Tonight.  Alone.   This was not one of the questionable decisions I had to make.  That was obviously out.

I did have a reply from someone who mentioned he would, he has a wife and two kids and a part time job but would need money for gas.  We spoke back and forth a bit and I was all about it, but when he mentioned in his emails that he was shocked I wasn't getting any other offers due to the fact that there are many sick people out there who would do anything for some action, I started to see some red flags.

I asked him, "How do I know you're not one of those people?" to which he replied something like, "I'm not sure, you tell me.  I guess if I was one of them I would have offered you a ride home if you are naked."  That's it.  No "haha" or anything else to sort of ease out of that creepy statement.

So I ended it there.  Didn't say anything more to him.  So it came as a bit of a surprise when he called me yesterday.  During the landing into my connection city, MSP, the plane was approaching the runway, and then steadily lifted back up no more than 20 feet above ground.  We spent a good 20 or 30 minutes flying over the Minneapolis/St. Paul area (which looks absolutely gorgeous, by the way!  So green!) before we actually landed at the airport.

The bad news:  My original connection was only 50 minutes, which has now been greatly reduced.
The good news:  The gate was literally the gate right next to the one we parked at.

The plane seen here flew me from SEA>MSP

The wing seen here is part of the plane that 

took me from MSP>MDW

So I rushed as fast I could onto a plane that was already boarded, luckily into an isle that had no people.

(side note: both of my flights were booked full, and on both flights, I had the only empty seat on the plane next to me.  win!)

As I got settled in, my phone started to ring.  Surely a call from a far away but not forgotten friend from back home wishing me a fond farewell.

Nope.  The number was from Illinois.  It was him.  HE'S CALLING FROM INSIDE THE PLANE.

No, not really.  But he was calling to ask me why I didn't get back to him and if I still needed a ride.

Oh, right.  Still didn't have a way up to Rogers Park.  Uhh, sure.  Okay.  I thought about saying no and assuming during this really quick connection that my bags were not going to make it from one plane to the next.  That would be perfect.  I could take the train with my two carry ons and the airport could deliver my lost luggage to me later!  Perfect!  But could I really take that chance?  I decided to go ahead and agree to have him pick me up, mostly because his voice didn't sound like that of a serial killer; I've watched a horror film or two in my day.

Into Chicago Midway I landed.  I get off the plane and down into baggage claim where not only do my bags show up, but they are the first ones off the plane.  Makes sense since they were the last ones put on.  So I supposed I'm glad I decided to take this guy up on his offer for a ride.  I felt only slightly apprehensive about the whole thing, so all-in-all good.  It was 4 in the afternoon, 80°F outside, so what's the worst that couple happen?  Maybe don't answer that.

He said he was running a bit late (traffic) so I sat inside the airport trying to lug all my gear around while trying to find an outlet that worked so I could charge my phone and use my Mac.  Also, is Sea Tac the only airport in the world with free wifi?  Everyone else wants me to sign up with this Boingo Hot Spot shit.

Eventually he got there and picked me up and we figured out the best route to get to where we were going.  We shot the shit a bit, talked about Chicago and a little about Seattle, about travel and moving and all of this other stuff.  We talked about street fairs and craigslist and we talked about looking for jobs.  He told me he wasn't having much luck with craigslist and looking for someone to pass out flyers for him.  It was obviously one of those I-want-to-tell-you-about-it-but-will-wait-for-you-to-ask moments, so to carry on the conversation, and for genuine curiosity, I asked.  He told me I was going to be shocked and appalled and get out of the car if he told me.  Without my bags?  Fat chance.

He said he wanted a young guy to be shirtless and pass out flyers while saying things like, "I want you to taste my nuts," and "Put my nuts in your mouth."  Okay, so he was selling nuts at gay pride.  

The shock.  

The horror.

I explained to him that I was just at a bar in Seattle where young boys dressed up in (not much) leather to resemble dogs were being paraded around the bar on leashes by hairy leather daddies and forced to sell jello shots.  The dog tails were butt plugs.

Then there was some other story about last year how to guy who did it had an offer to piss on his underwear and sell it to someone.  Not my thing, but not shocking in the slightest.  But this guy had told me before he was married with kids.  I guess he never said he was straight.

Anyway, he managed to get me all the way to Rogers Park without murdering me, so I gave him a $20 and called the other craigslist guy, the one who was letting me stay there.  I went inside, met the guy, saw the place, met the cats, and all of it was awesome.  We sat and talked for a while, discussed our travels and his part in the diamond trade while living in Africa (pretty sure it wasn't blood diamonds but I can't say I know too much about that) and then off he went to a dinner with his friends, and I went to my new room to unpack.  So I threw everything from my suitcase onto the bed until I found something cute to wear out that night, took a shower, and headed out the door.