Spring Break 1995

As I crossed into Arkansas, I was greeted by a sign reading “Welcome to
Arkansas — Home of President Bill Clinton.” As though they could legitimate
anything that went on there by the fact that their boy was in the White House.
Arkansas didn’t have much to say to me or maybe I was too tired to listen.

On to Missouri. Once again, I was almost out of gas. I pulled off the
interstate when I saw a sign that advertised gas. Up until this point, all such
signs have always meant that I would find about three gas station/food plazas
that were open 24 hours. Not so here. There was just an abandoned 76 station
at the edge of the exit ramp. I decided to venture into the nearby village.

The place had a strip on which every single gas station was closed.
There are various times in my life when I sense that my demise is at least
60% probable in the immediate future. A little voice inside my head automatically say,
“Ah, so this is how it ends: impending doom.”

This particular situation elicited the response “Ah, so this is how it ends:
Lost in the middle of nowhere in Missouri at the mercy of
whatever wild animals that might live out here.”

As I puttered around the next bend in the road, I saw ahead of me a glowing
not unlike the way the gates of heaven must glow. It was the light of a gas
station. It was open. Relieved, I filled my tank and went inside to pay with
my credit card. I immediately realized that I was Somewhere Else when the
cashier spoke to me in Native Missourian, a language I had never heard. Through
hand and eyebrow gestures, I was able to convey my intentions to pay for the
gas with a credit card.

As she was swiping the card through the reader, I noticed a point-of-purchase
display on the counter. It was a collection of audio tapes entitled “How to
Tell if You’re a Redneck.” It was some comic’s routine that went like “If you
think visiting the dentist is something that only happens on TV, well, you might
be a redneck.”

The cashier informs me that my card is not being accepted by their machine.
I tell her evenly that I’ve been using it all day and it should work fine. She
trys it several more times to no avail. It may as well have been my library
card she was sliding through the machine. She asked me if I had any cash and I
said no. As I stood there, I could feel the gaze of her daughter sizing me up
like a new kind of hamburger she wanted to try.

“Ah, so this is how it ends,” my mind said dryly, “kidnapped and raped by
rednecks in the middle of Nowhere, Missouri.”

The cashier continued to fiddle with the mind-numbingly simple card reader
while I escaped to the restroom. The handle on the toilet must have been
connected somehow to the reader for when I came back out, the card read just
fine. I took my card and got the hell out of there.

I had allotted myself three hours out of the twenty four to sleep. Otherwise
I would have to drive non-stop to get back in time for the job fair. I slept
a bit at some roadside restaurant and then continued on.

It was early morning in Illinois when I had Cop Encounter #4, the last one
of my journey.

I was cruising along, doing the speed limit (as I had been doing for at least
an hour) when I saw a cop car situated on the grassy median strip between the
highways. I had this psychic intuition that he was going to pull me over.

As I passed by, sure enough, he pulled into the flow of traffic. I thought,
“Okay, okay, I’m just going to play it real inconspicuous.” I slid into the
right lane between two semis and then out again the pass one of them.
That’s when the guy pulled me over.

He explained to me that he had scene me move in and out between the two trucks
and hadn’t used my turn signal either time. This of course explains why he
started to follow me BEFORE I changed lanes, right?

I had to sit with him in his car on the passenger side as he wrote up a
warning for me. This wasn’t just a reason to check my record for any drug
related charges, right? As I sat there he told me how he had thought of
attending DePauw, but had gone somewhere else instead. He finished the warning
and had me sign it. He told me to be careful and use those turn signals.

By the time I reached Indiana, I realized that I was going to be at least 2
hours late for the job fair and in no coherent condition anyways. I decided to
screw the job fair and just go back to Greencastle. I drove into town, never
so glad to see it as I was at that moment, and took the car to the car wash.

Even after a furious robotic scrubdown, the roof of my car still had the
writing “Bad Fucking Car” on it from when Ryan, Josh, Rod and everyone went to
see “Pulp Fiction” last semester.

Then I took it to get an oil change. I explained to them that yes, I had just
been in about a week ago and yes, I had since driven almost 4000 miles since
then.

The dorms didn’t open until Sunday at noon, so I needed a place to stay. I
considered staying at Freedom, but I wasn’t sure any of the guys were back. I
thought of Greg Stephan’s place and would have tried there had I not stopped
at Tom Chiarella’s first. He graciously allowed me to stay in the guest room
until Sunday as long as I was gone during the day so the kids wouldn’t be
freaked out.

I slept for a while, hung out, did some other things.

I returned to the car to rest some more. The dawn came, cold and lifeless.
I had hoped it would be clear so that I could see the sun rise, but I was
denied.

Getting out again, I had some bread. As I tore off a chunk, a large seagull
landed near by. It regarded my bread hungrily. I tossed it a piece which it
swallowed with no grace at all. A few more gulls landed. I tossed a few
pieces of bread among them and they devoured the bread. I realized that seagull
s were ugly, vicious birds. Suddenly I was surrounded by about twenty of
them. In numbers they know no fear. They hovered around me, forming a
flying dome of hungry birds. It was truly frightening. I jumped in my car
before I could get whitewashed, pecked or carried away.

After a while the birds left.

It was around this time that I thought about returning to Indiana. I was
supposed to go to this job fair in Indy Friday afternoon. I then realized that
I had grossly underestimated how long it would take me to return. I needed to
leave Texas as soon as possible.

But my mission was not yet complete. I wanted to wade out into the ocean.
I put on some shorts and headed back to the beach. Most other people were
wearing jackets since it was cold. But I had slept through a Minnesota
winter night unscathed and such things no longer bothered me.

On the beach I took off my shoes and socks and waded out into the surf
with my camera. I took some pictures and collected some sand and water in
a bottle to take back to Alex.

Hopping back in my car, probably laughing, I headed out of Texas and towards
Louisiana. Louisiana is a lot like Dagobah, except its sunier and there are
paved roads. Otherwise, its just a lot of swamps full of scaly creeping
things.

It was in this state that I had Cop Encounter #3.

The cop pulls me off the road and gestures that I get out of the car and
stand between my car and his. This cop was short, but built like a wall of
bricks. Tanned and serious. Of course he had to know where I was going and
where I had come from. He couldn’t believe that I had wanted to visit Texas
for spring break.

He explained that I had been going 71 in a 65 mph zone. And then he asked
me, get this, “What’s yer big hurry?” I’m going six miles over the limit and
I’m in a hurry? They must take things pretty slow here in Louisiana. I told
him that I just wasn’t paying attention. He wanted to see my vehicle registration.
As I opened the passenger door and reached for the glove compartment,
he stopped me and asked if I had any guns in there.

Weapons? Me?! I told him “no.”

After he looked at the registration, he had me stand away from the car as
he returned to his own vehicle. He opened the rear passenger door and brought
out a leash. Next thing I know he’s bringing out this dog to take a pee in
the grass. I didn’t recognize the breed and figured it was vat grown,
genetically engineered to perform the duties of a police dog. He trotted the
dog over to my car and walked it around twice, letting the thing get a good
sniff. Drugs, of course. The dog seemed satisfied that I was not harboring
bricks of hash and nodded up to the cop.

They let me go with a warning.

I had been stopped three times now in three different states. I was feeling
pretty notorious and invincible.

As I continued to drive through the swamp state, I was constantly tempted
to stop at a crocodile farm or Cajun restaurant, but i was short on time.

Soon (well, relatively soon) I was in Mississippi. While passing along
a stretch of green forest, I noticed a dead armadillo lying by the side of the
road. One of my only regrets is that I didn’t stop and bring it with me so
I could walk into Jeff’s room and say, “Hey, look what I found!”

As I approached the state border, night began to fall.

I got back on the road and headed into Oklahoma. I kept thinking of how
my friend Brandon would yell “Oklahoma! Oklahoma!” like Steve Martin in the
movie “Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.” I stopped at the Oklahoma Trading Post,
looking for any cool cowboy gear. I was looking for one of those neat poncho
things that Alex has. They didn’t have any.

I can’t remember anything interesting about Oklahoma, so I’ll just jump ahead
to Texas. Texas is a beautiful state and I think I liked it the most out of
all the others I had seen. It is huge and full of variety: forests, seashore
and desert. I wish I could have seen the desert, but there was no time.

As I approached Dallas, my mind played the theme to the TV show. I wanted
to stop in the city, but the traffic was so insane and frightening that I
decided to just keep on going towards Houston.

Two hours north of Houston I stopped to call Jeff and Alex. I was feeling
lonely and wanted to hear a familiar voice. I also wanted to hear Alex
freaking out when I told him where I was. I was not disappointed and it
made the whole trip worthwhile just to hear him go off. Jeff just said,
“What the fuck, dude?” Alex asked me to get him some water from the ocean.

I hung up and was heading back to my car which was parked beside the
convenience store. I noticed something on the ground. While on the phone
I had noticed something before and my mind had for some reason decided they
were rabbit droppings. Why I thought that was perfectly reasonable, I don’t
know. Upon closer inspection I saw that what I was looking at was
several hundred dead roaches lying on the sidewalk. I got into my car and fled.

By the time I made it to Houston, it was late and I was very tired. I
pulled into a Wal-Mart parking lot and slept for a while. When I got up
I drove some more to Denny’s and had a late night/early morning breakfast.
Then I slept in the parking lot some more.

I was so cold. My joints ached and everything felt sore. Moving was an
effort. I crawled into the front seat and managed to get my boots on and
start the car to get some warmth going. I felt like the conquering hero;
a survivor.

After I was reasonably warm, I drove to the gas station and got gas. There
were these two townfolk in there. One of them looks me over and says “Who
are you supposed to be, Wyatt Erp?” “This is just how I dress,” was all I
had to say. I asked them if there was anyplace open this early for breakfast
and they recommended the Milkbar.

I walk into this place which was the Greencastle equivalent of Nina’s Java
Junction. I mean the Ely equivalent. Anyways, there’s all these old guys
sitting at the counter and the waitress greets everyone by name and has a
cup of coffee ready for them. I sit right in the middle and order an english
muffin and coffee. No one speaks to me.

I kill some time. Drive around. Go to Hardees for another breakfast. I
stay there about two hours, reading. Then I head for the Wolf Center which
is about to open. The place was up on a hill, a lodge-like structure you
might see in a national park. In front of the place were statues of wolves
running.

I waited for them to open the doors and entered in with a group of people.

I paid the admission and went into the museum area of the place. Here one
could learn all about wolves: what they ate, how they hunted, pack patterns,
the behaviors of different wolves in the hierarchy, how to distinguish an
Alpha wolf from the others, etc. There were all sorts of interactive video
and audio kiosks. In the center of the area was a large diorama of stuffed
wolves. Two were playing and two were killing a deer while the others were
just chilling.

There were a bunch of children running around the place, which annoyed
me. One of the boys kept asking me “Who are YOU?” I heard him tell his
mother that I was the wolf man. I smiled inwardly at that.

After I had checked the museum out I walked to the back of the center
where the classrooms were. There was an area of seats facing a large picture
window. On the other side of the window was a large fenced off area.
Basking in the sun, about fifty feet away, were two wolves.

Wolves. Right there. They were beautiful. Occasionally one would get
up and stretch or look around before lying back down. They were lean and
graceful. I just stood and watched them sleeping. Sometimes wolves sleep
twenty hours a day, if they’ve had enough to eat.

Later on, this woman came out to talk about the wolves. She passed around
bones and wolf pelts for the audience to examine. Then she went outside and
coaxed all the wolves down with these deer biscuits or something. They have
four wolves (one male, three female) in captivity there. Each had distinctive
markings and personality.

Sometimes they would come really close to the window and would stand within
an arm’s reach. It made me happy to watch them walk around and eat the food
and stare at the audience.

I left feeling that I had accomplished my mission. I had had the idea
that maybe I would be allowed to play with the wolves since I was on a holy
quest, but no. I wrote to Ryan about the experience and mailed him his
letter.

Now what? After seeing the wolves, the only plans I had were to go places
I had never been. Originally, I was thinking about seeing Montana, but it
was just too cold up there. I thought of Beth and Sheila and all those
other people getting tans. I wanted to go someplace warm and sunny.
Hey, I’ve never been to Texas, I thought.

That’s what I would do: I’d drive south to the ocean and walk out into
the Gulf of Mexico! That became the new goal. I thought of the play I had
just been in and thought how cool it would be to find some shady bar in
Texas and play pool with a one-armed man.

I headed south, back through Minnesota and down into Iowa. As soon as I
crossed the border into Iowa, the sky turned dark and oppressive, as though
the state knew I had been writing stories about it. It was here that I had
police encounter #2.

It was late at night and I had just finished listening to my audio CD of
Gibson’s “Neuromancer.” I was excited and not paying attention to the
speedometer. I got pulled over. The guy was young and nice. I was going
10 MPH over the limit.

“Tell you what,” he says. “I’m going to save you some money and let
you go with a warning.” I thanked the guy and continued on. I had told
him I was going to Texas and he asked me if I thought I could make it that
night. I had no idea how far away it was.

Missouri. Kansas. Driving across a state seemed like nothing at all to
me. Every time I crossed a new state line, I laughed like a madman. I could
do anything I wanted. It’s good to take a road trip alone; all you have
are your own thoughts. I had incredible mental conversations.

I was getting tired, so I pulled into a rest stop and slept there until
morning.

I decided to go it.

I headed north, driving along Lake Superior. It was a huge patch of cold
blue which turned into white ice near the shore. At one point I saw several
big ships, tankers, that were frozen on the ice.

The road then wound through Superior National Forest which was just beautiful.
I had never been in a forest that big. I saw perhaps three other vehicles
on my journey through the forest. The road was winding and treacherous with
snow. I expected a storm to hit me at any moment and then I would be screwed.
I stopped along the way by this abandoned log cabin to make a sandwich –
that was my staple food: peanut butter sandwiches. They taste different
when you make them yourself out in the middle of the wilderness. Before I
started along again, I took a Twin Peaks-like picture of the road. You gotta
see it.

Ely was two hours north of Duluth, within 100 miles of the Canadian border.
It turns out that the weathermen were completely mistaken. No storm. Not
even any snow. They joked about it on the radio for the next day.

Ely is a lot like Greencastle in that it is very small and in the middle of
nowhere. It is also a lot like Twin Peaks because of the trees, the atmosphere,
the logging business and because I found a dead body washed up on shore there.
Just kidding! It did remind me a lot of Twin Peaks, though. The main strip of
the town was all about canoe, camping and wilderness outfitters. These places
were punctuated by saloons and gift shops.

I wandered about for a while, looking in the shops and such. There wasn’t
much to see and I realized that this place could easily bore me out of my
mind. I had a whole day which I pretty much had to spend there, though.
I drove to a larger neighboring city, Virginia, which was pretty much like
driving to Bloomington, but it wasn’t as fun when I got there.

So I went back to Ely and hung out in the library where I read for a few
hours. As it got later, I decided to go to a bar and check out the night life.
I entered “Dee’s Bar and Lounge” to find the place deserted except for an old wo
man and two guys talking to the bartender. I bought a rum and coke, a pack
of Marlboros and sat down in a booth.

The Rockford Files was on the television and I pretended to watch. But I
was really listening to the stories these guys were telling. Most of them
had to do with young girls, how long it take to drive to Minneapolis, and the
police using inflatable sex dolls to entrap speeders. I’ll go into more
detail for those of you who really want to know.

I stayed there until I felt uncomfortable and then returned to my car.

I went back to the library and read until it closed. Hoo rah.
It was late, so I decided to look for a place to sleep. I cruised the
back streets of the town, looking for someplace out of the way. At each
likely spot, my mind played a worst case scenario about what would happen if
someone found me. These thoughts ranged from some psycho breaking in to the
car to a little old woman thinking I was the casualty of a drug deal gone
bad, so she calls the cops.

I finally found a hospital parking lot with cars in it all the time. I
took a spot in the back row, climbed into the back seat and curled up
under my blankets.

I forgot that it was still winter there. More in the morning…

Around 8 I went into the mall and watched the mall-walkers do
their rounds.  Since it was Sunday, the stores didn’t open until
11.  I explored the first floor just to get my bearings and
figure out how the place was laid out.

The Mall of America is probably one of the neatest places I’ve
ever visited.  It is four stories tall and divided into four
wings at each compass point.  Your average mall (like Greenwood
or Castleton) would probably take up two of this mall’s wings.
The place was just gigantic.  There was an amusement park in the
center complete with roller coaster and log ride.  At each wing
there was something different.  One wing had Lego Land.  It was
the size of a small house.  Everything was built from giant
Legos.  There were dinosaurs, guys on motorcycles, a space ship,
etc.  The little Lego people were about as tall as I am.

Besides having every store I had ever known, they had many
specialty shops.  One really cool place was the Rainforest Cafe.
The place looked like it had been chiseled out of rock.  There
were tropical plants everywhere.  There was a heavy steam
billowing through the place and every once in a while there was a
thunder storm.  Live parrots greeted you when you walked into the
gift shop area.  Just outrageous.

On one floor there was a laser tag arena.  There was a comic
book store with t-shirts of the Tick!  Amazingly enough, I didn’t
buy one.  They had a Starlog store, completely devoted to all
sorts of science fiction: Star Wars, Star Trek, Battlestar
Galactica, Dr. Who, X-Men, Robotech, etc.  Hey Rod, they were
selling Breetai and Khyron action figures for $20 each!  The
whole back room was devoted to Star Trek.

Chris and Rod, you would have loved the Astronomy/World of
Science and Science Fiction store they had.  In one corner there
were telescopes and star charts, in another there were Star Trek
figures and robot models.

There were many clothing stores there, Beth.  I wished you
were there so we could have gone shopping again.
On the top floor there was a Hooters, Planet Hollywood,
American Sportsbar and a 13 theater General Cinemas.  The
Sportsbar had virtual reality games.  I saw that they were
showing “Just Cause” in the theater and decided to see it later
that afternoon.

Before the mall opened, I sat on a bench and read “The Left
Hand of Darkness.”  It was very relaxing.  When the stores
finally opened, more people had shown up.  I had had this idea
that I would have the entire mall to myself.  Suddenly the quiet
mall was filled with the familiar bustle of mall rats.  Oh well.

I stopped in the Natural Wonders store to ask about wolves.
The lady there told me that the place to go was Ely (EE-LEE).
That’s where the International Wolf Center was.  I asked her how
far away it was and she said it was about 6 hours north.
6 hours.  Into the snow.  I’d be right near Canada for crying
out loud.  But the wolves…  That was the goal of my mission: to
see the wolves.  How much would I risk to see them?  I had to
think about that.  In the meantime, I continued to explore the
mall.

I spent most of the day there.  So many people.  Most of them
had that Minnesota accent.  It’s so endearing, don’t ya know?
I’ll have to imitate it for you some time.  Going to the mall
usually drains something out of me.  It’s as though it requires
emotional energy to take in everyone around me, comprehending the
scope of humanity.  But not there.  I was happy.  I could look
out over a balcony on the fourth floor and see a forest inside a
mall.  There was a gigantic snoopy sitting beside a swimming
pool-sized water dish.  I just smiled and smiled.

In the afternoon I saw “Just Cause.”  It has Sean Connery,
Lawrence Fishbourn and Ed Harris.  It’s a murder mystery movie
which I highly recommend.

After the movie I decided it was time to go.  I had made my
decision: I was going to see the wolves.  I checked the map and
decided that I would drive as far as I could that night and then
check into a motel since it would be too cold to sleep in my car.
While I was sitting there in the parking lot, a car rolled
across the way from another parking space and bumped into the car
next to me, blocking my exit.  It had narrowly missed me.
Apparently the guy had forgotten to put his parking break on and
the lot had a slight slope.  I went inside and called security
and the mall secretary announced that the owner of the car should
report to the parking lot.  The guy and a rent-a-cop showed up
and worked things out, allowing me to leave.

I drove until late, stopping in Duluth.  I found a place
called the Spirit Mountain Lodge and got a room there.  It was
comfy and warm.  I watched the end of “Backdraft” on TV and then
went to sleep.

I wanted to take a shower, but apparently the hot water heater
had exploded in the night, so there was nothing but ice water.  I
looked upon this as a good thing, as I would have to get used to
not taking showers for the rest of the week.

I called up Jeff to see if we were going to get together and
do something.  I told him I wanted to check out a few stores
before I headed back to Kennelworth where he lived.  Josh and I
headed out to the city on a marvelous sunny day.

F.A.O. Schwartz was our first stop.  It was a giant department
store-sized toy store.  The place was a candy-coated Willy Wonka
Disney cartoon theme park ride come to life.  I was frightened.
Giant teddy bears and smiling clocks loomed everywhere.  And
toys.  Toys all around me.  I played with a few things before I
started to feel claustrophobic.  Then we left.

A new Borders Books and Music had opened up on a corner.  Four
stories of books, magazines, CDs and computer software.  I
browsed through every floor and didn’t buy a single thing.  The
part of my conscience that presides over consumer goods has
Ryan’s voice.  “You don’t need that,” it kept saying.  “When will
you have time to read that?” or “You already have one of those.”

After returning to Josh’s, I finished most of my pizza and
bade him farewell, after shelling out $17.00 for overnight
parking.  In some cities, that would buy me a motel room.  I just
paid $17.00 so my car could have a good night’s rest.  It turned
out that that would be the last rest it would have in some time.

Jeff and Alex weren’t home when I got to his house.  I sat in
his living room, reading, until they returned.  Then we all went
out to Best Buy after stopping at the tobacconist so Jeff could
buy some cloves.  I had never been to Best Buy before.  Their
prices were ridiculously low.  We waited forever for Alex to
figure out what CDs he wanted to buy.

We returned to Jeff’s and when it became apparent that nothing
interesting was going to happen in the immediate future, I
decided it was time to move on.  My plan was to go to Minnesota
and find wolves.  I hugged them goodbye and took off on route 94
west.

This is where my journey began.

I hit Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the early evening.  As I drove
through I thought, “Hey, this is where they invented beer!”
Maybe I would visit a brewery.  But I reconsidered when I
realized that it would be akin to a DePauw fraternity’s concept
of nirvana.  So I drove on through.

All along the way I had been seeing billboards for the
“Hochunk Casino.”  Hmmm, that sounded interesting.  I had never
been in a casino before.  I stood outside one in Atlantic City,
but I wasn’t old enough at the time to go in.  The casino was in
Minnesota, a few miles off the interstate.

The Hochunk Casino was about the size of a small airport.  I
had to park about a half mile away (or so it seemed).  You might
have thought you were parking at King’s Island or something.  I
entered through the glass doors into a wash of bright flashing
lights.  The floor was thick with people and tight lanes of slot
machines.

The sensation was like being at an amusement park, trying to
decide what to ride first.  There were different styles of slot
machines, but they all operated on the same principle: ya gotta
line up dese three little pictures.  The more you bet, the more
you could win.  Of course.

I had vowed that if I ever went to a casino, the money I spent
there would come from one pocket and the money I won would go in
another and never the two should meet.  I got a bunch of quarters
and sat down in front of one of the devices.  It was mind-
bogglingly simple, reminding me of the computerized versions I
had on my computer.  I almost forgot I was playing for real
money.  I lost most of the time, but got a weird Pavlovian thrill
when the bells and whistles went off.  My mind started to play
games with me.  It claimed to see some kind of pattern forming
and if I just kept playing, mathematical statistics would
overcome luck and force the machine to spit out a mountain of
quarters.  I looked at the person next to me.  Their bin was
brimming with silver.  If this mere housewife could win a pile,
then why couldn’t I?

Fifteen dollars later I was headed for the exit.  I had bet
everything from both pockets.  The potential for disaster waited
in the wings like some mad harpy.  I escaped while my reason
still had both hands on the oars.

Getting in my car, I left the Hochunk Casino behind and set
out to find a place to sleep.  I had this idea that I could sneak
into one of the nearby campgrounds.  Unfortunately, they were
closed at this time of year.   So I returned to the interstate in
search of some safe spot to stop for the night.

I pulled off again near the towns of Millston and Hixton (I’m
not joking).  I don’t know if I was in one or the other.
Whichever it was, the town comprised of a gas station and a few
houses.  I crept slowly along, looking for a spot to stow away
for the night.  I made one turn off the road and fond myself on a
winding unlit path.  Not good, I thought.  Maybe I ought to get
back on the interstate and find some nice, well-lit parking lot.
Before I could act on this sage advice offered up by my self-
preservation system, Discordia, that reality-shredding goddess of
chaos, capered onto the scene and lobbed a bad luck grenade in
the form of a police car, lights flashing red and white.
Hmmm, was all I could think.

What follows is Drey’s Police Encounter #1.

The officer, a weasel-looking guy with glasses and a mustache
approached my car and shined his flashlight around inside.  I had
my license ready for him.
“You seem a bit agitated,” he said.
“I’m, uh, lost…”
“Oh, you’re LOST, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see that stop sign back there?”
“No.”  I had no idea what he was talking about.
“You DIDN’T see that stop sign back there?”
“No, look, I wasn’t trying to…”
“You didn’t see me sitting right by the stop sign?”
“Ah, no, I didn’t see the sign; I guess I wasn’t paying
attention…”
“You smoke pot?”
“No,” I said.
“Oh, you DON’T do you?”
He shined his light at my crotch where I had placed my CD
player.
“What’s that?  A CD player?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
“What’s it plugged into?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s a CD player, isn’t it?  It’s got to be plugged
into something.”
“I, ah, have it wired into the cassette deck…”
“What? Where’s the headphones?”
“I don’t need headphones with this.”  I couldn’t believe this
guy.
“Oh, something NEW, eh?  Well, why don’t you open it up for
me?”
I opened the CD player, revealing a CD.
“It’s a CD,” I observed.
“Okay,” he couldn’t get me there.  “What’s in that bag?  Why
don’t you open that bag and show me what’s in there.” He pointed
to my black school backpack.
“It’s my bookbag,” I explained, opening it.  “Here’s a book.
And a folder.  Look, here’s another book.  What do you want to
see?”  I was getting sarcastic.
“What are you looking for down here?”
“Well, I thought there was a town or something here, but
obviously there isn’t, so I think I’ll probably get back on the
express way.”
“Uh-huh.  Wait just a minute.”  He returned to his car to run
what I assumes were routine checks on my license.  He returned
after a few minutes with another odd question.
“Is that the only jacket you have?  Were you wearing another
jacket before?”  I was wearing my black trenchcoat like I always
do and had brought no other coat with me.
“This is the only coat I have.”
“Well, we just had some guy hold up a store down here, so
we’ve been looking for him.”
Ah, the truth comes out.
“Well, I didn’t steal anything…”
“Why don’t you move some of that stuff around in the back
seat.  Show me what you have back there.”  He wasn’t finished.
I moved my pillow to reveal my CD collection.
“Why look, it’s my CD collection. What do want to see?!”
“All right,” he seemed satisfied with that.  He gave me
directions back to the interstate and warned me that “Those stop
signs mean STOP!”

As I maneuvered back to the highway, I passed the intersection
where I had supposedly run the stop sign.  On the left hand side
of the road was a post about a foot tall.  On the post was a stop
sign no wider than my hand. It was apparently for snowmobiles.
I figured that I couldn’t stop anywhere within fifty miles of
Hixton since the cops were probably still looking for this guy.
I ended up stopping at a 24-hour restaurant and napping for a
bit.  Then I kept driving.

I decided to visit the Mall of America before seeking out the
wolves.  Jeff’s mom had told me about it. It is literally the
biggest mall in the country.  She might as well have said, “Hey,
Drey, I know where there’s a magic door that leads to Narnia.”

As I drove, it began to snow.  It was still winter in
Minnesota.  I made it to Bloomington, where the mall was and
parked right in front of it.  To me this was like camping out in
front of the gates to Disney World the night before it opens.  I
crawled into the back seat and fell asleep.

I also took the car in for an oil change.  It needed it.  One
of these days the escape pod is going to fall apart into its
component Lego pieces and I’ll be up shit creek.
I told Alex and Jeff that I wanted to leave at noon.  That
meant they were to have eaten at 11:30.  Of course, as things
with this group go, Alex was just getting up just before noon.
He said it would take only five minutes to pack and shower.

Sure.

Alex was accounted for, but where was Jeff?  I had knocked on
his door and called his room, but no luck.  Johnny had done the
same. He wasn’t at the Hub or anywhere he would normally be.

It was 12:30.

I couldn’t believe he would do this to me.  I left a message
on his board: “Where the fuck are you?  If I don’t find you by
1:00, you’re WALKING!”  Alex and I tried to think of where he
could be.  Then a thought struck me:  “Maybe he really is in his
room.  Maybe he’s just sleeping really really hard.”  Following
this hunch I went back upstairs and pounded on his door with
renewed vigor.  I was rewarded with a groggy “Whut?”
He had been there the whole time.  We got him up and showered
and such.  Then we took off.  I stopped at Wendy’s to get lunch,
using the coupon for a free meal I had won from WGRE (thanks, Beth!).

I had made the drive to Chicago about two weeks before.  This
time it took about four hours due to traffic.  We managed to make
it to Jeff’s house without a problem.  There were oatmeal cookies
waiting for us.  Jeff’s mom is cool.

I dropped off my two friends and headed into the city to find
Josh’s apartment.  Apparently, at certain times in the day, They
change the direction of traffic in some lanes.  So a lane that
appears to be going one way is really going the other.  This
explains why I was driving head on towards a fleet of cars.  I
shifted to the far right lane and continued on through the worst
traffic I ever had the misfortune of experiencing.  No one gets
pulled over for speeding in downtown Chicago; it’s not possible.
Josh somehow secured an apartment a block from the Watertower
in a nice part of town.  I pulled into a parking garage and Josh
was there waiting for me.  We exchanged greetings and headed up
to his apartment.  The place was comfortable (much bigger than a
dorm room).

For dinner, Josh presented me with the best home-made Hawaiian
pizza I have ever had.  Everything about it was right.  Josh has
to make pizza for everyone when he comes back.

We were running late for the concert we were going to, so we
has to jam.  Exiting the apartment, we went across a few blocks
to the elevated train.  I had never been on one, but it was very
much like the subway in New York, only on an elevated track…
As luck would have it, the stop which would have conveniently
dropped us off in front of the Aragon was closed.  We got off at
the next exit and backtracked through some shady neighborhoods.
I made a mental note not to come back this way after the concert.
After being frisked at the door, we ambled in amongst a large
crowd of concert-goers.  There were a lot of older types there,
which I thought was unusual.  The kids were mostly grunglings and
preppies — just what you’d expect at a Toad the Wet Sprocket
concert.  We moved upstairs to the concert floor.  The Aragon is
a converted theater done up to look like a courtyard within the
walls of a Spanish villa.  We were surrounded by towers and
balconies.  Looking up, one saw an artificial night sky complete with stars.

A lot of people were drinking beer when they weren’t spilling
it all over the floor near where I was standing.  Josh remarked
that it looked like one big party at Delta Upsilon.  He said that
he would feel better if everyone were smoking pot instead of
drinking beer; they’d be calmer and less pushy.  I agreed.  Later
on, I did observe a group of girls passing a joint amongst themselves.

Hootie and the Blowfish was the band that opened for Toad.  I
had never heard their music, but Ryan seemed to like them, so
that was good enough for me.  Since he was jealous that I was
seeing Hootie AND Toad in the same night, I thought I would
embellish my account of the concert.  But I don’t have to.
Hootie was amazing.  The lead singer, Darius, had a voice
designed for a gospel choir.  He opened many of the songs a
capella.  Some of them moved me to tears.  After the break, Toad
the Wet Sprocket took the stage.  I had seen them recently with
Ryan, but this performance was at least three times as good.
Darius came out and sang “Crowing.”  The second encore was a duet
of Glen and Darius singing “I Will Not Take These Things For
Granted.”  All in all, I was pleased.

Josh and I filtered out of the Aragon with everyone else.
Much to our dismay, the place where we exited the el was now
closed.  It was now about 11:30 PM in downtown Chicago.  I turned
to Josh and asked him what we were going to do.  He said that we
could just follow the tracks and get on at the next boarding
point.  This seemed logical to me.  As we walked along the
street, the other concert-goers flagged down cabs and, group by
group, faded away until we were nearly alone.

We made it to the next stop to find that it too was closed.  I
began to get nervous.  I was without my trench coat, so I felt
vulnerable.  I wished I had a gun or a knife, to provide a sense
of security.  All I had was a marble which Brandy had given me
before I left.  Members of Inter Varsity Christian Fellowship gave
out marbles to everyone and told them that they would be praying
for them over break.  I took that marble with me wherever I went
throughout the rest of the week.

I stood there on the dark sidewalk, my hand clutching the
marble in my pocket, looking at Josh.  He said we should keep
following the track.  I looked at how the track ran through a
alley and into darkness further on.  I said, “Fuck that, Josh.
There’s no way in hell I’m going down there.”  I was really
wigging out.  He assented and we backtracked, looking for an
answer.  Along the way, a legless panhandler rolled up to us
asking for any spare change.  The homeless and the destitute are
hard for me to deal with.  I want to buy them all meals and find
them a place to stay.  I tried that in Ohio and in New York, but
there’s always more homeless around the corner.  We brushed past
the guy, ignoring him, and something icy prodded my heart.
We finally found an el station and got on board.  There were
two guards with attack dogs on the train to help keep the peace.
I felt safe, but at the same time afraid of a city where such
things were necessary.

Back in Josh’s apartment, I reveled in the warmth and the
food I had and thought about the guy in the wheelchair.
We checked our e-mail, talked a bit, and then went to sleep.