Chicago, Oct. 2008

Alas Google disappoints me today. I thought I'd do a search for 'ann coulter sarah palin lesbian sex' but my inquiry came up blank. Where are the amateur Photoshoppers and illustrators when we really need it? At least I've got my desktop picture of a painting of a nude President-to-be Palin from the Old Town Ale House in Chicago, posing with an assault rifle. I'd spank if it weren't for witnesses nearby.

Been up since 4:30am when I awoke and hopped on the net back at the hotel. Everything went extremely well for my trip connections today. Hopped the 7am shuttle to O'Hare and got dropped off at the Metra station out in the boonies of O'Hare's surface parking. Took an illicit leak upon an untrodden patch of soil and grabbed the commuter train, right on time.

The inside of a Metra commuter car is quite spartan and industrial. All the downstairs seats that face forward were occupied, and hauling my stuff upstairs was not an option. Fortunately there's two rows of fold-down seats where I was able to park my butt and cool the heels for awhile. The upper seating level is actually two separate areas bisected by an open space. One could peer up at passengers above or look down on those below. Each side was accessible by it's own stairwell. Pretty much everything is designed get people out quickly when one arrives at a station.
A much nicer mode of travel in comparison to the 'L', but quite sterile. With a bit of window dressing one could easily use a Metra car as a prop in a sci-fi film. I envision something between the cattle cars in your standard Holocaust movie and THX-1138. Maybe Soylent Green on wheels... “SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!!! And now it's on the go!” A movable feast.

Pulled into Union Station around 8am and shuffled off the cars with the rest of the worker bees like so many cattle and on through the entrance gate into the hallway with the rotating knives... Mein Gott! Must get off abattoir humor.

Made my way through the bowels of the station and printed out my train tickets from the QuikTrak machine. Checked my large baggage in and made my way to Lou Mitchell's for a satisfying omelet with potatoes, coffee, and rye bread with orange marmalade [See blog post: Breakfast at Lou Mitchell's].

Got someone within earshot whose been blathering on her cell phone since I got here. I felt compelled to go to an online dictionary to play the audio for how to pronounce “blather” as loud as I can get on these wee speakers. The English pronouncement voice is rather hot. I checked out “masturbation” but it's not the same voice talent and I feel all hollow inside.

Sitting in the Metropolitan Lounge at Union Station, working off a fine meal, tapping the calories away. Oh, each keystroke is melting the milligrams away. Six-pack abs here I come. Though I'd settle first for a pony-keg belly. Baby steps, you know.

I've got a few hours before boarding and I'm gonna see if I can hit the john. Space is limited here.

Oh, will wonders never cease?

I went to the toilet to relieve myself and came upon this contraption that encases the seat in a ring of plastic film that scoots around the ring between uses not unlike those cloth hand towel rolls now seldom seen in bathroom great and small, but more akin to sausage casing.
This is freaky! It's like sitting on Saran Wrap with the same clinginess. I don't know if the sound of lifting up from the enrobed seat was enjoyable or disturbing. Likely a bit of both.

And let me tell you it's really hard to balance a laptop while using the facilities, especially with naked Sarah Palin looking up at me. And I could barely slip it through the funky Dyson hand dryer without trying to drop it.

Photos from the Picasa Web Album, Chicago