The Morning After

I really can't explain what happened after the show. Let it be sufficient to say that I couldn't find my glasses and my clothes seemed to be strewn about the hotel room in the morning. I was very disoriented. And, I think, DJ V was oddly smug. Hmmm.

The cure, obviously, was to visit Starbuck's while DJ V showered. I scampered across the street, and lo, if it was not the very same barista from yesterday afternoon! I got hooked up, and returned bearing libations to tide us over on the way to the MEGABUS.

Again, my string of excellent luck in hailing cabs in Chicago was unbroken, and we arrived with a lot of time to spare, and saw some folks carrying McDonald's sacks, so we asked where it was located. Somewhere deep in the bowels of Union Station apparently. It took us asking about sixteen different people to find our way to the fast food emporium. It got to the point where I was only retaining directions for a duration of 5 feet. Then I would stop and ask someone else for directions. I was afraid we would be forever trapped inside, just like the kids from the From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. We finally did find the joint, after spawning upstream against the tide of commuters. Thus fortified, we were all ready for the trip back to Cleveland.

Odd thing, though. The trip back seemed to take forever - it felt like we were going from Chicago to Cleveland, via Montana. Perhaps it was the lack of Marti and Liz. Perhaps it was the driver, who was straight out of the American Gothic painting. At any rate, DJ V and I found a way to pass the time. {substitute verbiage alert!}

We arrived home and hopped on the free trolley, as we were both tired of carrying our bags by this point. DJ V had to stop by her office for awhile and get caught up on things.

Then we were really hungry and took off to Carrabba's for some pasta.