— I flew to Portland, Ore., this week to hang with a friend who moved there a few years back.
He works for an airline, so he hooked me up with a killer discount on my tickets. The only catch was I had to fly out of Chicago O’Hare.
Problem was I had to travel alone, so I had to make the 175-mile drive by myself. If you remember from last week, I don’t sit still well. And this would be almost 4 solid hours of nowhere to go, nothing to do and no one to talk to.
By the time I got to Illinois, I was talking to inanimate objects, passing motorists and myself.
Here’s a rough estimation of how the last 40 miles of my trip went in a mile-by-mile breakdown. I should clarify that the Kate mentioned below is the British woman giving me directions. The GPS device assigns her a name, which I think is creepy. But I also find it rude to not address her by name since she obviously has one.
Billboard: The Prince Experience now at Blue Chip Casino.
Me: You know, there are some experiences that don’t need to happen to me. That is one of them. I’ll pass.
Kate: In 2 miles, take the first left and then stay left.
Kate: In 1 mile, take the first left and stay left.
Me: I heard you the first time, Kate.
Kate: In 245 yards, take --
Me: Shut up, Kate! I’m sick of you telling me what to do!
Ad on the side of a construction business: Home of the stress-proof and fatigue-proof ...
Me: Can I move in?
Billboard advertising new app called “Road Ninja.”
Me: “Ninja Warrior!” (In my best Ninja accent.)
Me: Awww, look at those cute row houses. I didn’t know they had houses like that in Chicago. Wait. Am I in Chicago? Where am I?
Road signage: “Welcome to Chicago.”
Me: Well, ask and ye shall receive.
Countless signs all around toll booths telling you to not back up.
Me: Someone did something pretty stupid that forced them to hang up signs stating the ridiculously obvious. Moron.
Traffic is at a complete stop on the “expressway”
Me: Did I really just pay a $3.50 toll for the privilege of parking? I could have parked at home for free.
I’ve really got to examine my decision-making process.
Twenty minutes and only 3 miles later, I’m starving and an Edible Arrangements delivery truck pulls in front of me.
Me: Dude, you’re about to get robbed.
Radio: “Cruel Summer.”
Me: That’s sadly fitting at the moment.
Traffic still at a crawl.
Me: Where were you at on this one, Kate? You’re so fired.
Traffic is finally moving. Radio plays “Free Falling.”
Me to DJ: Are you watching me?
Despite all that, I make it to the airport successfully.
From there all I had to do was find the parking lot, take the shuttle bus to the train, take the train go the terminal, check in, go through security, find my concourse and gate, wait two hours to board the plane and survive the four-hour flight to Oregon.
Ahhhh, this is relaxing.
— Misty Knisely
Interim [friday] editor/officially on vacation