What is there left to do on a road trip of epic proportions, except end with how it all began. No, not a motel in Idaho (although I feel like we secretly miss Trina). No no, I’m talking about the beautiful gift of karaoke.
After these two woke up from their naps our last night in Chicago, we climbed the subway (our first public transit moment of the trip), and decided to go show the city how it was done, shimmying right through the doors of Spin. Steve killed a little Meatloaf, hell, the guy directing the karaoke did the duet version impromptu with him, I annihilated a little Shania, we chuckled, we drank, we came, we conquered, we left. Did we bounce to a couple of bars from the night before? Sure. Was it eventful? Maybe….Steve let an ex-con know that he, in fact, was the one in the bad mood. That’s all. And scene.
We didn’t rush out of Chicago, which in turn put us at our destination very late. We ate a bad Denny’s breakfast, we had 15 more redbulls to keep us going, we slowly anticipated that our week living without responsibility was almost over, and that reality was right across the border. Illinois turned into Indiana turned into Michigan, Heart turned into Madonna turned into Tom Cochrane, and Beryl purred nicely right to Steve’s brother’s front door. The luggage came out, I told him give me a break and not call us until tomorrow (which lasted two hours), and after just 10 minutes, at my friend Allan’s door Faye and I arrived, unstable, but alive.
And just like that, a new city begins. I managed to get off the couch to seek out caffeine today. Am I going to accomplish anything else? Laundry can wait until tomorrow. The job search can wait until tomorrow. Apartment hunting can wait until tomorrow. I’m not a religious man, but I’m making up for the Easter we spent on the road right now, for I christen Tuesday the new God’s day. It makes me feel less like a lazy sack, and probably better prepared to accomplish what I need to start doing, yes, sigh, tomorrow.
Time to get a life.