Vicki (hermorrine) wrote,

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Adventures in Morriland, Volume 87.4

Today turned into all kinds of ridiculous.

After I got off work at 7, I went down to the restaurant and bar on the first floor of the building, because one of my coworkers is having his last day tomorrow and they were having a going-away celebration. They'd been there since 5, so I didn't know if anyone would still be there but I thought I'd check. The guest of honor was still there, as was my best bud at work, J, and a couple of other guys. So I joined them. J was drunk off her arse, meaning she was loud, babbling and using the word "fuck" about 5 times per sentence, which was amusing. Eventually the others left and J and I were there talking, when her husband showed up. I've met him before and he's a really nice guy. We had another drink each and talked more, and then headed out - J went home with her hubby, which was nice for me because I was going to drive her home otherwise - no way was I going to let her drive.

So I head out and hear on the radio that there are protests going on, so they've got all of Lake Shore Drive blocked off. Well, hell. How am I supposed to get to the freeway? My only option would be to drive lengthwise through Chicago, not something I really want to do at almost 10 pm. So I go to get on LSD, hoping for the best. It wasn't blocked - much relief ensues. Then my cellphone rings - it's Mom. I kinda forgot that someone might notice if I wasn't home at my usual time. Ooopsie. I reassure her that I'm fine and no, I'm not at the rally as my dad seems to think - just as I hit where the rally actually was. Ah, so this is where they have the road blocked off. Wonderful.

I head a different way and nearly have some drunk/drugged/insane person crash into me as he veers into my lane, then watch as he takes his half out of the middle for the rest of the block. Lovely. And such a great neighborhood I'm in now, too. Turn the wrong way, end up by what looks like Cook County Jail, but really not sure. It has lots of high fences. Go other direction, cannot seem to get on highway from here. Do. not. panic. Drive through neighborhoods of Chicago I have never been in before. Hmm...this looks like Little Italy, how cultural of me. Eventually find my way to the highway, my unerring sense of direction doing its job. Go me!

To sum up:

Newcastles drunk: 3
Cigarettes smoked: erm...7?
Number of times J said some variation of "fuck": At least 100
Number of police cars seen in Chicago: At least 20
Number of protesters I ran over: None, but would've been tempted after that damn detour they caused me.
Number of car accidents: None, thankfully - narrowly avoided one.
Sex had: Zilch. Boyfriend on other side of large body of water. Ocean mocking me. -.-
Going to bed: Now.

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