Fun things occur between here and there: My resignation to not make any holiday treats turns into 5 separate recipes in an afternoon, leading me to make a desperate PSA about cookie delivery and subsequently far more social dates than originally anticipated. A secret celebration is in the mix (for which more baking commences) and then, I am off to Chicago to see my lovely friend Maggie and her Culinary school life.
I opt the Megabus route to get me to the windy city. For those of you unfamiliar, the Megabus is a "low-cost" alternative to the Greyhound. It's like the misbehaved dog's over-tidy, neurotic owner. No one talks on these things. And you are let off at group rest stops like disciplined school children. Even so, my trip there was tolerable enough but by weekend's end, I have no high praise for my first experience and will not be recommending the service to you fine folk. Stay tuned to see why. \I feel like Babe, Pig in the city when I get let off in downtown. My insides lurch at every horn and I cringe at the angry sputters and expletives hurled out of Taxi windows like Tourettes. Maggie and Justin call me as they are quick approaching in the lane of non-stop traffic and we pull a hit-and-run stop to get me in the car.
Apart from the mob that is transportation, we have a jolly good time. Maggie has also baked up a storm - perhaps enough to feed Chicago itself - and we nosh and catch up before going out for some late night beach tromping. We kick back he next day, play scrabble in a snazzy cafe, quench my recent sushi cravings and later go on an adventure which unexpectedly acquaints Maggie and Justin with a bar that receives their declaration of "The Spot" for their local indulgence.
My return the next day begins smoothly. We are up way early for Justin to drop Maggie and I at the Mega Bus stop. Traffic on the commute is unnaturally non-existent and we arrive early with plenty of time for him to get to work. But its like "Hoth" cold outside and the only shelter option is across the street at Union Station. Now smooth becomes very, very topsy turvy.
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| beautiful Chicago Morning |
The ticket you print off for the Mega Bus gives you a time. It doesn't really say what that time means. It just gives you a time, which you can assume is arrival, departure, estimated time of arrival...whatever. In the case of my first experience, it was the time that was 15 minutes before the bus even arrived. Then, another 15-20 minutes was spent loading luggage of which I had none to load.Finding ourselves on one of the windiest days in the windy city that morning, we decide it would be reasonable to seek shelter across the street and emerge when my listed time ticked up. Well, this time it was the time that the bus was pulled away from the curb, already up to the stop light ready to turn a corner. I run up and knock at the door, politely gesturing to please let me aboard. The driver gives me the scathing glare of a scrooge that had just brushed paths with a small, needing child. There was a good full minute after that for him to sit in which I could have easily gotten on. But instead, the light turned and he turned. Maggie is talking to the man on the sidewalk who suggests I rush to the other end and try to catch him. I make one last attempt, waving my arms frantically, conjuring the most distressed look that I can manage and the driver proceeds to run a red light to avoid me.
But this is just the beginning of our fun conundrum. First, we rant and vent. Then we decide to head towards the greyhound for a bus that was set to leave in a couple hours. We stop first for some food just across the street from the mega bus. A tasty indian restaurant that provides some much needed warmth to our frozen feet and bitter outlook at our misfortune. However, while there we check the greyhound once more and the ride has disappeared. The next step is to look back at Megabus. Maggie finds one that is soon enough that I would succumb to their service one more time before never using them again. We sit with our eyes peering out the window and a quarter to the time, go across the street. I wonder then, why no one else is there and ready to go, if they are so prompt. Another look at the ticket makes for another turn of events "11:59PM" not AM. Another $40 down the drain. My final option is the 12:20PM Train. At the ticket booth, the woman cautions on the boarding time and warns that if we miss it, the next one is 6PM. "Don't Worry." I say. I will not miss it!
the station is packed. Lines are formed haphazardly and it seems some have been waiting for quite some time. I start to catch mutters of "late" and "unknown delay" about the room. Two and a half hours later, after enduring vague, technological statements about the status of our train and being led and abandoned in random lines outside of the station loading area, we are finally led back in to board.
I sleep. I arrive 20 minutes before I am supposed to be going dancing.
never has there been a more needed antidote for frustration.
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The rest of the break.
More friends.
More food.
More cat.
Less sleep.
And of course, a game night to top it all off.
I love my friends. <3
I escape the mitten just before the Polar Vortex. Suffering through only a couple of 2 hour layovers. Mary and corey are in Portland to pick me up and we are back home in Packwood at 2:30am.
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| MARY GOT ME A NEW HAT! |
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