Laaaaaasst niiiiiight:
While waiting for the westbound bus at Halsted and Chicago, an eastbound cabbie honked and slowed down. I smiled, shook my head, and waved him onward. A few minutes later he pulled up to the curb and said, "Hop in, I'm finishing for the night and I'll give you a free ride." So I did. "I sometimes do this if it's cold, and you gave me a nice smile. I believe you should do kind things simply for the sake of kindness," he told me around Ogden. What a lovely surprise!
The cabbie dropped me off at Woodsy's apartment, and I joined the supercouple for a screening of Mariah Carey's Glitter. Woodsy made delicious English tea with milk and sugar, and his roommate Joey sat with us. Wow! What a wonderful movie. One of my fellow cinemaphiles succinctly described Ms. Carey's performance as follows: "You know, I look back at all the times I've seen her, and I can't believe it took this long to see that she is completely and totally insane."
Also great: the male lead (Dice, who conveniently wears a gold nameplate necklace in case you forgot his name) is Spin's DJ of the year. At one point, Dice decides to get a three-piece instrumental combo together. We see him plinky-dinking on a keyboard, and then he runs over to the drummer and says, "Try it like this!" before doing a wicked drum fill. We all giggled, thinking of someone we know.
After the movie, I walked to Tuman's to wish Miles a happy birthday. Yay Miles, yay Miles' nice friend! Max Fischer was there, too, and I invited him to join me on this week's Taking Care of Biz-a-ness adventure.
I was feeling very sleepy, so I left around midnight. The plan was to hit up the ATM at Division and Damen, and take a cab from there. But the tea-caffeination and air's brisk chill perked me up. "Oh, maybe I'll see if anybody's at the Rainbo," I thought. I sat at the curve of the wooden bar, ordered some cranberry juice, and began writing valentines ("Please go on a date this Thursday so that I can live vicariously through you," to my parents). Leroy walked in (wearing a very smart shirt/sweater combination) and we talked for a bit. I told him I liked his band's new album design, which is the truth! He didn't seem weirded out to see me, which allayed my earlier "Leroy thinks I am a dolt" anxiety. Yay!
Later, Henry sat down next to me. He's one of the kindest people I've met since moving here. There's a difference between being nice and being kind; people can fake niceness, but you can't fake kindness. We talked about Francoise Hardy, our plastic-eating cats, and the vividness of dreamlife. "You've got an old soul, Annie," he said. It was a compliment.
I stayed at the Rainbo until closing, and a group of people milled about the door. A homeless man approached us, and we gave him some money. He was very friendly, and he said I had a beautiful smile. I blushed. I caught a ride to North and Damen with Henry and Andy, who is a fellow library aficionado. Ran into Leroy again. "Hey stranger," I said. He smiled. Henry caught a taxi for me, and the driver was friendly. I was happy to watch the white clouds drift east lazily, with buildings piercing the navy sky. I tipped the cabbie well and scurried to the door. Oh, but upon searching for my keys, I came up empty-handed.
When you lose your keys, there are a few brief moments during which you tell yourself that if you rifle through your bag one more time, they'll show up. I emptied my bag three times before accepting the truth: it was past two am, I had no way to enter my apartment, and it was cold outside. I rang a friend four times, woke him, and hobbled over to his apartment. I slept very well and remain perky despite sleeping half my normal amount.
In an hour I begin calling various establishments in search of the keys. If luck is not on my side, perhaps the landlord will be.
While waiting for the westbound bus at Halsted and Chicago, an eastbound cabbie honked and slowed down. I smiled, shook my head, and waved him onward. A few minutes later he pulled up to the curb and said, "Hop in, I'm finishing for the night and I'll give you a free ride." So I did. "I sometimes do this if it's cold, and you gave me a nice smile. I believe you should do kind things simply for the sake of kindness," he told me around Ogden. What a lovely surprise!
The cabbie dropped me off at Woodsy's apartment, and I joined the supercouple for a screening of Mariah Carey's Glitter. Woodsy made delicious English tea with milk and sugar, and his roommate Joey sat with us. Wow! What a wonderful movie. One of my fellow cinemaphiles succinctly described Ms. Carey's performance as follows: "You know, I look back at all the times I've seen her, and I can't believe it took this long to see that she is completely and totally insane."
Also great: the male lead (Dice, who conveniently wears a gold nameplate necklace in case you forgot his name) is Spin's DJ of the year. At one point, Dice decides to get a three-piece instrumental combo together. We see him plinky-dinking on a keyboard, and then he runs over to the drummer and says, "Try it like this!" before doing a wicked drum fill. We all giggled, thinking of someone we know.
After the movie, I walked to Tuman's to wish Miles a happy birthday. Yay Miles, yay Miles' nice friend! Max Fischer was there, too, and I invited him to join me on this week's Taking Care of Biz-a-ness adventure.
I was feeling very sleepy, so I left around midnight. The plan was to hit up the ATM at Division and Damen, and take a cab from there. But the tea-caffeination and air's brisk chill perked me up. "Oh, maybe I'll see if anybody's at the Rainbo," I thought. I sat at the curve of the wooden bar, ordered some cranberry juice, and began writing valentines ("Please go on a date this Thursday so that I can live vicariously through you," to my parents). Leroy walked in (wearing a very smart shirt/sweater combination) and we talked for a bit. I told him I liked his band's new album design, which is the truth! He didn't seem weirded out to see me, which allayed my earlier "Leroy thinks I am a dolt" anxiety. Yay!
Later, Henry sat down next to me. He's one of the kindest people I've met since moving here. There's a difference between being nice and being kind; people can fake niceness, but you can't fake kindness. We talked about Francoise Hardy, our plastic-eating cats, and the vividness of dreamlife. "You've got an old soul, Annie," he said. It was a compliment.
I stayed at the Rainbo until closing, and a group of people milled about the door. A homeless man approached us, and we gave him some money. He was very friendly, and he said I had a beautiful smile. I blushed. I caught a ride to North and Damen with Henry and Andy, who is a fellow library aficionado. Ran into Leroy again. "Hey stranger," I said. He smiled. Henry caught a taxi for me, and the driver was friendly. I was happy to watch the white clouds drift east lazily, with buildings piercing the navy sky. I tipped the cabbie well and scurried to the door. Oh, but upon searching for my keys, I came up empty-handed.
When you lose your keys, there are a few brief moments during which you tell yourself that if you rifle through your bag one more time, they'll show up. I emptied my bag three times before accepting the truth: it was past two am, I had no way to enter my apartment, and it was cold outside. I rang a friend four times, woke him, and hobbled over to his apartment. I slept very well and remain perky despite sleeping half my normal amount.
In an hour I begin calling various establishments in search of the keys. If luck is not on my side, perhaps the landlord will be.
Labels: chicago
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