Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

So, as I venture home this weekend, I would like to reflect back on the weekend before and my adventures in Washington, DC. Now, it was a weekend filled with seeing my sister, throwing a party, attending a party, messing with cats, shopping for things I don't need, having lunch with busboys and poets, seeing old friends, watching movies, reading gossip magazines, rolling in the Goodwill van, and finding out that I don't really miss the city aside from the occasional visit.

But what will make me remember this trip a year from now, was the massive effort it took to get from O'Hare airport to my apartment the Sunday I arrived back in Chicago. Let me preface this tale of woe with the fact that it took longer for me to get from the northside of Chicago to the southside, than it did for me to travel from DC back to Chicago in the first place.

Let's start with the ill-begotten notion, when talking to my Dad, that it wouldn't take more than a little over an hour, maybe 1.5 hours to get home from the airport. I hop on the blue line ready to zone out until we hit the loop when suddenly, post-departure, someone from the CTA announces that the blue line is under repair and everyone has to get off at Cumberland (about 2 stops from the airport), board a shuttle bus that will stop at Harlem and then drop us off at Jefferson park (2 stops down) to reboard the train. Fine, whatever - I only had carry-ons with me and was traveling light. Too bad the princess in front of me decided that she had needed two huge suitcases, and a bag, and decided to throw a fit all they way to the bus, on the bus, and during the entire bus ride, and again afterwards. She can't handle all of her crap and halfway back the bus announces that she can't go any farther. She kept going, though. I'm not sure why, maybe in the spirit of goodwill, maybe due to the fact that one should always head towards the back of the bus, maybe because I was right behind her glaring like I was a serial killer - not sure, really.

Anyway, 30 minutes later, we're back at the train station and 20 minutes after that the train actually arrives. I get downtown, go above ground and race towards my bus stop - yes, so close to home, and warmth!

Except for the fact that as I was rounding the corner, my bus flew by and I had to wait another 20 minutes for the next one to come. By this time I was tired and had salt all over my jeans from the various transfers in the snow.

Anyway, my ambitious plans of flying in, making some dinner, cleaning, and doing laundry turned into a $2 slice of pizza, messing with my cat, and going to bed early. I know, you're jealous, right?

In the end it only took my almost 2.5 hours to get home - that's not bad right.

Oh, and to the princess on the bus - one word for you - taxi.