The Journey Begins

July 6th

56,200 Miles

Columbus, OH

Anyone reading this can already assume that we don’t depart on time for Chicago.

I spend my last hours in Columbus packing random articles of clothing and books I feel I may need on the trip. My lack of planning has required that I disperse items among a duffel bag, a backpack, and essentially an airplane carry-on style piece of luggage, which is ridiculous. I’m going to look like a maniac anywhere I roll up to. Most people can live for months out of one big backpack. I guess I feel like since I’ll be in my car the whole time it doesn’t matter if I overpack as long as it all fits in the trunk.

The drive on 70 through Ohio and Indiana is uneventful.

We are staying in Chicago with my friend Dave Belczyk from Notre Dame. Since he’s traveled home for the long 4th of July weekend he won’t be returning until Monday, but has invited us to stay at his apartment our first night in his absence. He has left his keys for us with the building staff. The office closes at 11:00, and with it any hopes of us spending the night in his place.

Again, needless to say, we roll up with exactly 3 minutes to spare. I won’t go into details of our harrowing journey to get there before the office closes, but rest assured it was typical of both my driving style and Chicago’s traffic.

We arrive in front of the building, a half block off Lakeshore, and Christina runs in to buzz the office. I park in a loading zone nearby and head in. I find Christina arguing with an old Eastern European man who is apparently not willing to give us the keys. Once I see that he has them in his hand, with my name on the envelope, I know that it’s just a matter of a little sweet talking and ID-flashing.

This actually does not work.

He is under the impression that we need some sort of special form to pick up the keys. I think he thinks we’re moving into the building. I try to explain this is not the case and he becomes increasingly agitated.

He goes to summon who I presume is the building superintendent.

We follow him down the hall where he bangs on an apartment door. Another old man, in his underwear, comes to the door. They begin arguing in what sounds like Russian (Dave later tells me they’re Romanian).

Underwear man finally convinces the man holding the keys to turn them over to us. I’m visibly relieved.

This important task successfully completed, we now turn our sights on the second most important thing after shelter, food. I know from experience that the holy grail of deep dish pizza, Ginos East, is not open past 10:00 on Sundays. So at this point our best option is Pizzeria Due (the second location for Pizzeria Uno), which is a strong second place contender for best deep dish, in my opinion. The pizza is delicious and we’re able to take home a few extra pieces for later.

The drive up Lakeshore at night is relaxing and reminds me why I’d move to Chicago in a heartbeat if it were summer all the time.

We unload the car and I commit to the task of finding street parking, which in this neighborhood at this hour is tantamount to searching for a Tickle-me-Elmo circa 1996.

I park at a meter on Broadway that is off but will turn back on again at 8:00 AM.

We go to bed late. I'm exhausted.