The Great Adventure. Prologue: July.

DIARY

As a writer confronted with a computer screen, it's simply natural to confront something like a month as something like a story. So here, after I haven't posted in close to two months, I'm posting the story of August from top to bottom, and I'm telling it in just that way.

A quick recap on July.

On the 3rd of July, Jess lost her cel phone and we had a very stressful weekend. On the 5th, Sean and I attended Billy Corgan's concert at the Vic, and I acquired Doris Henson. On the 6th and 7th, I performed Buick City Blues out of my apartment (Sam was gone). That weekend, Jess and I went to a kitchen shower thrown by my mom and Peg at Peg's place. On the 10th, we drove back, late into the night, Cody, Jess, Caitlin, Sam, and myself crammed into the Grand Am. Caitlin and Cody stayed the night at my place. Another week sailed by. On the night of the 14th, I flew out to New York to secure an apartment for Jess and myself. By the morning of the 15th, I'd succeeded. Jess and I each read three chapters of the new Harry Potter, on our own. On the night of July 16th, I went to see Willy Wonka and the chocolate Factory, while Jess celebrated her bachelorette party in Chicago. On the night of the 17th, I flew back to Chicago, taking a cab on arrival, and getting into Hyde Park around 1:30. The next week, my last at Northwestern Memorial, flew by. That weekend, Jess and I attended pre-Cana in the suburbs and finished Harry Potter (horcruxes!). On Monday, I caught a train to East Lansing. It was late. I was picked up by my father and brother, then Cody and I went out to Rube's and the Colonial. The next night, we went to see Willy-Wonka in Clio. And somewhere in there, I went for a walk in the rain of Mott Park and stopped for coffee at the Atlas. On Wednesday, I spent the day cleaning my room. And then I returned to Chicago. Cody drove with me. We spent that night packing up Jessica's things (her lease had expired) and transporting them up to Sam and my place in Edgewater Beach. It was an eight hour affair, but we weren't finished that night, and had to rent a van for the next day to get the last items out. The next day, Friday, the 29th day of July, we primed her apartment for inspection, and went to a party thrown by Dr. McLeod, head of the congenital toxiplasmosis study for which Jess' worked. And then we drove the van up, and spent several more hours unloading. 9:30 found me fresh from a shower but fresh out of clothes, standing in the mess of two people apartments all crowded into one small bedroom. There was a knock on my door. Sam and Cody stepped through into the room. The wore black hats, black ties, black shoes, black suits, and black shades. "Connor? We're here with your Union card." They were the Blues Brothers.

* * * * *

Bachelor Party

I'd asked Sam for something fun, but with a bit of class, and not involving strippers. He done very well. Over the next twenty minutes, while Cody and Sam were dressing me, the other blues brothers arrived: Skylar and Bill, Armand and Sean, Christian and Sebastian. Sam and I killed the last two fingers of bourbon. Jess was there to give me a kiss goodbye and a formal sendoff, and then we were down to the cars, Armand and Cody having landed the lucky jobs of designated drivers. Cody drove with Sam in shotgun, and me sandwiched with Sebastian and Sean. We rolled down Lake Shore Drive, talking about CBGB, Blondie, the Ramones, the Talking Heads, but we were out for Blues! And proved it when we got off at Fullerton, tripped on down to Armitage and struck out for Kedzie. Mama Rosa's. Where I foolished turned down a minimum wage job four years ago making fliers and putting them up evenings for Tony, the dive's Sicilian owner.

As soon as we arrived, generating laughs and comments before we hit the door, Sam dragged me out to the center of the floor, announced this was my last night as a free man, before I fused into the old ball and chain, and faces all about the place turned. And the singer, no singerette but an Indigo Queen turned her face to me and said, "Sit down. I'll finish with you later." So I sat in the shadows, flanked by these shadowy men with sunglasses, and listened to her sing. I started out with a whiskey on the rocks, I think (my memory of much of that night is a little hazy), and two songs in I was called up to take my place, for a very personal dedication from the singer. She was Texan. And she sang.

It will certainly make the 100 list of the most daunting, terrible, beautiful, and majestic moments of my life (and when you think of the 700,000 odd hours most of us will live, cutting it down to 100 involves some selectivity), and also ranks high for humor, melody, and sexiness. It was one of those moments that is infused with the essence of what Blues really is; not joy, nor sorrow, nor rapture, nor motion on their own, but all stewed up into a mixture with an unmistakable and unmistakably intense and complex signature.

I had a Guinness, courtesy of Sam, and we spent a half-hour talking to the band between sets. Sebastian took a lot of crap for his hair. We rolled out of the place, our sights set for downtown...

· · ·

The next stop was B.L.U.E.S. Chicago, and River North was much more awake at the hour; more awake and noticing of nine men moonilighting as an Akroyd or a Belushi. As we walked down the street we were treated to catcalls, pickup lines, and lines from the movies. The gentleman collecting cover inquired whether we'd prefer five chicken or a slice of toast.

Inside, the band managed to reprive Sam's salute and my friends were suddenly more attentive and aggressive to the assembly line of drinks flowing in my direction. The truth is, I don't really remember everything that I drank at BLUES. Bill got me something sweet, and I remember a tequila shot with Sean, and maybe a beer, but I could be wrong. The singer, a rail-thin combomanic with robotic piston arms and huge eyeglasses kept calling us the "Jews Brothers," probably due to Cody and Bill and their sephardic ways. Then the man wailed out the most heartfelt and non-mysoginist version of that beautiful, problematic song It's a Man's World I've ever heard, life or otherwise. Of course, there was equal funk to blues, but then this was River North (so what did we expect), and anyway, who am I to bitch about some funk. We got up and did a drunken dance, but in so doing got half of the rest of the club (equally drunk and otherwise) into the act, and we all bopped up and down, and my Brothers all got into macking, in particular upon one young lady who looked like she could have come for Social Sci down at the U of C, and a middle-aged woman (from Kalamazoo of all places) who put us all to shame in her graceful twirls and smiles. Her husband spoke with me at the urinal. But then they were sweeping me out the door and we got into the cars and up to the Green Mill.

· · ·

By the Green Mill, when we parked along the littered, broken Uptown sidewalks, things were starting to look a little rough for me. The tequila shot had stung... had not gone well... and I was too full of myself, and insisted upon a shot of Old Overholt (the Green Mill being the only Chicago joint I've ever found to carry the stuff). Dancing did not happen; not for me. The band announced my event only by saying "we're very sorry for what is going to happen to Connor." I guess announcements aren't their thing. There was a lot of lushy talk around a big table. Christian was being funny, and Sebastian was leering and smiling, and Sean had to say goodbye, and Sam was swinging, and Cody, Sky, Bill, and Armand all won a keeping the cool award... there are some perks to designated driving. Cody got me a Guinness. "In honor of our heritage." It was the last alcoholic drink I had that night, but the first I'd encounter again. I got sick. Sky got me a Sprite. The bar was going to close so they all were going to go down to Clarke's for coffee and hash browns. To sober up. I was already sick no matter what.

I SHOULD'VE GONE!

But I didn't. Armand was clearing out. He offered me a ride home (so long as I didn't get sick in his car), while the rest of them were on their way down for an adventure with a fight between a waitress and the Belmont folk (resulting in a broken and bloody nose). While I went home, puked again, and went to bed.

* * * * *

The 30th and 31st

I spent the whole next day useless. It was about all I could do to walk Cody down to the car and hug him goodbye.

The 31st, I straightened my room and moved all of Jess' stuff in there. Sam helped. Sky and Libby came down and we went for down to the beach and then back to our place and had a fine meal of fish and steamed veggies and rice. My first beer since the Bachelor Party.

Then the next morning was the beginning of August.

So I packed my bags and rode the Red Line down to the Orange Line and rode the Orange Line down to Midway and got on my plane, and never appeared again in Chicago as a single man.

END OF POST