Sunday, May 07, 2006

Maybe NASCAR Will Be Next?


This will likely be a boring post, but it will finish off what I had babbled about a few days back. I lucked out by not having to spend the 42 degree night huddled in the Hanover Park Metra station because my friend Dan let me stay at his place and he dropped me off before 6 AM before zigzagging back to HIS stop at the Villa Park station. For six hours I worked in a lift truck, counting inventory on light fixtures that eventually would be sold to a place in Conyers GA. Here I am operating a truck (thankfully not a forklift), even though I don't have and never will have a driver's license of any kind. I figured that if I can drive on a go-cart track during one of Beth Massie's Pseudocons, then I can go three stories into the air and not topple over. I only got scared when I had to back up, because I kept losing my balance. The only bad thing about the job was that there was no place to stash anything, so for the first time in recorded history, I was not lugging a black satchel around with my notebook and comics and paperbacks and eyedrops and Rice Krispie Treats. So I wore a suit jacket over my black t-shirt so I'd have pockets for my FIJI water bottle and my copy of H. Jefferson Parker's CALIFORNIA GIRL to read on the way back home. As described earlier, my trek back to the Metra station was similarly long, yet in the opposite direction. I looked like Frankenstein dressed like a hobo as I somehow walked past the Schaumburg Flyers minor league park (how I missed THAT on Thursday is beyond me) on the way to the train. I have no real photos to post for this convoluted and dull end to my story, but I'll find one of my favorite demolition pics instead. Figure its how the inside of my body was over the last few days, all the rubble and stuff being bone fragments and dead brain synapses. Wayne

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