Airports are only half the fun
Not too sound odd (or odder than usual), I am dedicating this post to a toilet. Yes a toilet, the most magnificent toilet in the United States. It is found in every women’s bathroom stall at O’Hare airport. Pure genius dispensing clean and sanitary seats for which you can sit on instead of “hovering” and cramping your thighs.
You may ask why I was at O’Hare (Chicago), well I was in town to celebrate my friend Smith’s 30th birthday. I had to use a free work flight to Chicago before it expired and I figured why not surprise the whole gang! Yep, I did not notify any of my friends (except Melanie who let me sleep on her glorious guest bed), so it was a total surprise to everyone when I showed up at the bar.
My favorite reactions were Dan R. wide eyes and the birthday boy’s “Holey Shit!”. The party was in the back of a Lincoln Square Bar, The Chicago Ale house. Not only did they have Kronenburg but also Delirium…mmmmnnn. That is a recipe for drunketiy drunk drunkness.
By the end of the night we were inhaling the helium from the balloons. Kons by far was the best at it and crack up when I think of his serenade of classic rock. I’m sure the rest of the bar was like “man these people are seriously disturbed” especially when I started donning one of the ‘guess who’s 30’ streamer banners like a Miss USA sash.
No birthday can be complete without cake. How do you serve cake to a bunch of drunk people in a bar, cupcakes….genius! Mmmmnnn they were so good. The combination of the helium and booze made me quite giddy and I thought to play a trick on Ryan. I said “hmm, this cupcake smells funny, you smell it”. I then smashed it in his face and laughed my ass off. Okay, get it out now, I am a jerk. Well as I was laughing, I went to eat the remainder of the cupcake (why waste it…mmmmnn). Ryan got revenge and smashed it in my face. I then chased him into the men’s restroom to wash up (well and to laugh our asses off….we inhaled just helium I swear). While we were cleaning up, a stranger came into the bathroom and was shocked to see the following image “two people near the stall with brown mash all over their mouths and chins”. Yeah it probably looked like we were eating shit!
Smith had his fill of shots and more shots, so his wife (Jenn) stowed him in a cab and they headed home. We got a text message about ten minutes later from Jenn who said about half-way home, Smith jumped out of the cab, puked on the sidewalk, and then started walking in the wrong direction. Boy have I been there trying to convince a very drunk partner that home was actually the other way (see New Years Eve post).
The crew out of habit meandered to our favorite late night burrito joint Garcia’s. This place is known for authentic Mexican dishes and burritos that could even satisfy the biggest of appetites (have you SEEN my guy friends….seriously). It also has hot Latina waitresses and a very creepy looking kid painted in the wall mural.
The place was packed with drunk people (including us). The restaurant got so rowdy that they bar part closed its door as to say “no more booze for these folks”. We did manage to get a picture of strawberry margaritas (note I was the only girl and did not have any input on the drink order) which we all sipped on since our booze level was maxed out. One really funny thing was that the drunk crowd banded together with random bursts of applause. Seriously, a waitress would come out with the water jug, and the whole place would erupt clapping.
The next day, I met up with Dan R. and Ryan for lunch (all others were in hangover agony). Dan and Ryan ordered the Bloody Mary bar to help ease their head (and propel them to the first level of alcoholism). I stuck with the water. The waitress came back with three pint glasses of ice water. I thought it was strange that mine was the only one full, but oh well. Being parched, Dan took a big gulp of from his water and then proceeded to gasp and turn bright red with his eyes bulging out. Turns out the “water” was really vodka for the Bloody Mary bar. Poor guy sucked down three shots of liquor. Reminds me of an incident the previous week where my water bottle was full of vodka. On a similar note, Dan or Ryan told a story from college spring break. Evidently a guy was wrecked and passed out on the hotel bed. The other guys filled a big gulp with rum and placed it on the nightstand. First thing the following morning, the hung-over guy took a long drink from the cup. He immediately projectile vomited on the other guy crashing on the bed. Ah ha ha ha, what a horrible way to wake up, covered in vomit!
I killed time that afternoon over at Dan’s sweet condo. He introduced me to the video game Guitar Hero. Basically it is a way for video gamers to pretend to be cool (sorry Dan). Actually I’m impressed with Dan’s skill since he did an expert level Sweet Child of Mine. I tried it out on the very beginner level (and some hair of the dog song that was supposed to be really easy) and was booed off the stage twice for missing too many notes. Damn, I have no talent! I’m glad I do not have the game at my apartment otherwise I would probably obsess over it until I got through one entire song.
Heading out to the airport, we hit massive traffic. I think Ryan got annoyed with me for counting down the precious few minutes before my flight took off. Well I got there 30 minutes ahead of time and was not allowed on the flight because I had to check a bag. Don’t get me wrong, I packed a small carryon for my 48 hour trip to Chicago, but my giant thing of moose exceeds the stupid 3oz liquid rule. First off it is a moose, not liquid, big difference. Second it does not come in a smaller size because it is salon product. Those who have been to a salon know they use the biggest bottle possible to put their product in. Seriously, if they could market a keg of hair gel, they would.
Luckily I was put on standby for the next flight leaving an hour later. I was marked to be miserable because I A) got a middle seat and B) got seated next to the most annoying woman ever! She was even worse than the two kids I had to “babysit” on my 4-hour flight back from Jamaica. These kids were loud, squirmy, constantly getting up to pee (I was aisle) and stole my blanket when I got up to stretch my legs. I don’t care if I looked heartless when I scolded them with “use your indoor voice (did I just say that?)” and sternly said “that is my blanket” before ripping it off of their tiny bodies. Well this lady kept asking me the dumbest questions ever! Here is some of the conversation:
Her: “oh Lordy, I only see one exit, out plane only has one exit, the instruction guide (to which she was reading religiously) says we have two, oh child how am I going to get out”.
Me: (I keep reading my book)
Her: “do you want light, it is this button, I can turn it on for you”.
Me: Naw, I am trying to ruin my eyes, but thank you. (now pretending to sleep)
Her: “girl I have got to go to the bathroom, do you think I can go or should I hold it till we land”
Me: (in my head – hold it bitch, I don’t want to undo my seat belt and get up) “if you have to go, then go”.
Her: “oh there is a lot of lights down there, do you think that is New York City”
Me: “we are one hour into our flight, it is probably Detroit”
Her: “are you sure it is not NYC, I mean there is a time change”
Me: pretend to sleep (in my head – listen this is an airplane, not a teleporter, although I am tempted to tell her it is NYC and then exclaim something like oh my God, we just passed the city, are they turning around, nope, we missed it, guess we will just get off a the next stop, London)
Eventually the city lights greeted us, and I close out my Chicago weekend getaway.