Nomadic routine...
Time is a little bit like beer goggles. It can help cloud your judgement, only in retrospective as opposed to beer goggles' more immediate effects. As is the case with former girl/boyfriends, the passage of time tends to cause most people to romanticize to some extent; ask anyone about a former lover, and more often than not, the accounts will be fairly one-sided, and skew toward the positive rather than the negative. Memories fade, events are glossed-over, and stories evolve just enough to make things sound better looking back than they might actually have been.
Living in Chicago, I always liked it just fine, and when I moved to Minneapolis circa 1996 (Eden Prairie, home of the Eden Prairie Center, the mall in Mallrats) I liked it well enough there, but missed Chicago. Upon my return in 1997, I was genuinely happy to be back, and swore I'd never move away again, much less for work's sake. (Best Buy Co. ponied up the cash for my generous relo package to the Minnie.) In 2001, the theater company I was working for (on a fluke) in Chicago offered a promotional position in Hartford, CT. I had previously made it clear that I was happy where I was, and that I was a company man insofar as I could stay where I was (#2 guy at the company's flagship operation, making a relatively obscene amount of money for the little bit of work I had to do (and by "do", I mean delegate)), and that if any promotional opportunities came about where I was, that would be just fine, but I wasn't interested in moving. I was told that unless I liked doing what I was doing (since I'd be doing it forever) that it would be in my best career interests to take the promotion. Needless to say, I took the job, and moved (with a much less generous relo package) to Hartford in the fall of 2001. I hated it there. It seemed alright at the time, but the northeast to me didn't seem particularly friendly. I'd lived in the big bad city of Chicago all my life, and it took moving to Hartford for me to experience my first violent crime, an attempted carjacking/robbery in downtown Hartford. WTF? The weather was just as bad as Chicago, I was working too much and had no social outlet, work got to be a drag (as a result of personality clashes, corporate middle management shuffles, and being too close to the corporate offices), and the ultimately, the only people I ended up meeting were in NYC, a two-plus hour drive each way.
The only things I miss about Hartford:
- The absolute best wings I've ever had, from Wings Over Hartford (Hrm, maybe I need to open a franchise here...
- Utterly amazing cajun food prepared by the genuine cajun chef Armstrong at the Rajun Cajun (his family-run dive restaurant across from my theater)
- My kickass Main Street, downtown Hartford, penthouse apartment with capitol building/city view bachelor pad apartment (that I only ever got to take maybe eight? chicks to the whole time I was there, because I worked so much, damnation...(if only I had that apartment here, now, sigh...)
- Knowing the Chief of Police and just about every officer of the Hartford PD (and speeding in the town with complete impunity)
- Not having to pay for anything with cash, but movie tickets...that was sweet, since they didn't cost me anything personally (misappropriated as a perk of the position)
Once I left the theater gig, I took a couple months to travel...went to Chi for a month or so, then down to Rock Hill, SC for about a month...decided it was silly to pay exorbitant rent on an apartment I wasn't living in, plus, it'd be a good opportunity to spend some quality time with my beloved brother (ultimately a mistake, more on that another day) so got a trailer, headed up to CT, picked up my crap, and down to the Carolinas I went. I then proceeded to travel some more, for months at a time...specifically, to Atlanta, Memphis, Dallas, Chicago, and points in between.
Now that I've been away for about 2.5 years, it's been just long enough that I've forgotten some of the things I disliked about Chicago, and have perhaps inadvertently romanticized that relationship as well.
Spoke with Amy (Esq.) tonight after quite a little hiatus (we've spoken briefly in the past couple weeks, but nothing of substance...it was weeks, perhaps even months before that) and she relayed a horror story about her show business hottie baby sister and her Chicago parking ticket woes that just made me cringe in rememberance of the numberous times that I myself butted heads with the peons-that-be who live in that archetypal bureaucracy. In a nutshell, the political machine that is the Richie Daley administration has a little cash-generating operation that is otherwise known as the Department of Revenue (at least there's truth in advertising there), who in turn, controls the city's parking enforcement. They've got this whole little scam cooked up where they administer parking "rules", "laws" and "statutes", but all it basically is is a framework wherein they get to do whatever they like and take people's cars. I myself have fed several cars (of not insignificant value) and several thousand dollars' or my hard-earned (OK, well "earned) cash into said machine (I'm oversimplifying here, but I'm sure the idisyncracies have been dissected ad nauseam on other sites that I'm too lazy to look up at this point in time, and would make this already highly tangental post even more incoherent and incomprehensible; perhaps another day.) Anyway, suffice it to say, this surreal secondhand account of the three-ring circus that M's (Amy's hot sis) altercation with the DoR had become, reminded me of just how much I hated numerous aspects of life in the big city (shitty) they call the Second City: (some of which I'll no doubt explore in later entries)
- No handguns!
- Rapid/mass/public transit (I understand it's actually a pretty good system, but I still hated using it)
- The aforementioned DoR
- Absolutely HORRENDOUS 2/3rd day (5am-10pm) "rush hour" (seriously, don't try to go anywhere unless it's 3am...)
- Bah (my dad) is there, and while that's good from a pious son perspective, there's something to be said for the parental "buffer zone" extolled by Seinfeld and gang.
There are others, but my brain tires.
The point of all this is that I ended up in the CLT as a lark, a visit to my brother's gone horribly, horribly awry. Now that I've actually spent some time here (I can't believe it's been...13? months?! Crap...although that first six or so in Rock Hill really shouldn't count, as it's all the way down in SC, and I barely ever wandered North of the border, and of those six, I probably was on the road for three or four) and seen more of what life here has to offer, learned about the impending regional boom, and perhaps most importantly, built an increasingly strong social and support network of dear friends, I can honestly say that there's nowhere I'd rather be. Granted, travel to and from the area could be easier, as I believe that CLT is still one of the most expensive and inconvenient (from a flight continuity standpoint) airports to fly in and out of, but the recent arrival of a couple/few discount carriers (ATA notwithstanding, the bastards...well, not that I'd still be working for them anyway...damn those flight beneifts were tough to give up) should help alleviate that situation. Ah well, maybe start it's time to start thinking about looking at houses/lots, (and/or work as that last thing will necessitate) pretty soon, begin forming something resembling longer-range plans (insofar as my seat-of-the-pants mentality will allow) and see what happens.
Finally managed to delve into back taxes a bit, made more progress today than in the prior 7 or 8 years...however, I have now learned for a fact that while there is offically no penalty for filing late if one is due a refund, one loses any right to claim a refund three years after the original due date. In short, the last five weeks' inactivity has cost me in excess of a couple G's a week. Ouch. Expensive lessons are always the hardest learned, but my procrastination has cost me similarly on many occasion over the years, and no doubt will do so again in the future. It sucks, at times, to be lazy.
Turns out my old buddy AlanJ from way back, has taken a page from my experiences (check out the address) and started his own blogspot/blogger site, at http://vuewithin.blogspot.com. I learned this by his posting of a comment yesterday...
I've known this guy for probably about...maybe 8 years now? Perhaps longer, that number was just pulled out of the air. We basically never really talk, but clicked from the word "go", and the few times we've gotten together, have been great times...almost went into business together (remember BPS TechWorks? Haha...Where the hell is Jobe these days, anyway?) All-around good guy, seems to have a pretty interesting life (not altogether unlike myself, he shares a penchant for cars, gambling, and strippers...heck, he might even be the white version of me...hrm, actually, I'm not sure how that would work out, since I'm already basically white...), don't keep in touch with him enough...blog should make for interesting reading. Sounds like he's in a transitional stage, should try to get him down to the CLT to be a partner in crime...I'm sure we could stir up some trouble...hrm...or fire up that business idea again...hrm...
Right on AJ, it'll be good to hear about your crazy-ass shenanigans.
OK, late night munchies have gotten the better of me...a little bit of research finds that the Wings Over... people have, in addition to what is perhaps the worst web presence ever, at www.wingsover.com, a location in NC! Greenville though...266 miles by Google...and a "coming soon" store in an unspecified "Fayetteville"; let's hope they mean NC...still 135 miles, but at least it's closer than a White Castle! Road trip!
Ack! Dawn! off to bed...
Living in Chicago, I always liked it just fine, and when I moved to Minneapolis circa 1996 (Eden Prairie, home of the Eden Prairie Center, the mall in Mallrats) I liked it well enough there, but missed Chicago. Upon my return in 1997, I was genuinely happy to be back, and swore I'd never move away again, much less for work's sake. (Best Buy Co. ponied up the cash for my generous relo package to the Minnie.) In 2001, the theater company I was working for (on a fluke) in Chicago offered a promotional position in Hartford, CT. I had previously made it clear that I was happy where I was, and that I was a company man insofar as I could stay where I was (#2 guy at the company's flagship operation, making a relatively obscene amount of money for the little bit of work I had to do (and by "do", I mean delegate)), and that if any promotional opportunities came about where I was, that would be just fine, but I wasn't interested in moving. I was told that unless I liked doing what I was doing (since I'd be doing it forever) that it would be in my best career interests to take the promotion. Needless to say, I took the job, and moved (with a much less generous relo package) to Hartford in the fall of 2001. I hated it there. It seemed alright at the time, but the northeast to me didn't seem particularly friendly. I'd lived in the big bad city of Chicago all my life, and it took moving to Hartford for me to experience my first violent crime, an attempted carjacking/robbery in downtown Hartford. WTF? The weather was just as bad as Chicago, I was working too much and had no social outlet, work got to be a drag (as a result of personality clashes, corporate middle management shuffles, and being too close to the corporate offices), and the ultimately, the only people I ended up meeting were in NYC, a two-plus hour drive each way.
The only things I miss about Hartford:
- The absolute best wings I've ever had, from Wings Over Hartford (Hrm, maybe I need to open a franchise here...
- Utterly amazing cajun food prepared by the genuine cajun chef Armstrong at the Rajun Cajun (his family-run dive restaurant across from my theater)
- My kickass Main Street, downtown Hartford, penthouse apartment with capitol building/city view bachelor pad apartment (that I only ever got to take maybe eight? chicks to the whole time I was there, because I worked so much, damnation...(if only I had that apartment here, now, sigh...)
- Knowing the Chief of Police and just about every officer of the Hartford PD (and speeding in the town with complete impunity)
- Not having to pay for anything with cash, but movie tickets...that was sweet, since they didn't cost me anything personally (misappropriated as a perk of the position)
Once I left the theater gig, I took a couple months to travel...went to Chi for a month or so, then down to Rock Hill, SC for about a month...decided it was silly to pay exorbitant rent on an apartment I wasn't living in, plus, it'd be a good opportunity to spend some quality time with my beloved brother (ultimately a mistake, more on that another day) so got a trailer, headed up to CT, picked up my crap, and down to the Carolinas I went. I then proceeded to travel some more, for months at a time...specifically, to Atlanta, Memphis, Dallas, Chicago, and points in between.
Now that I've been away for about 2.5 years, it's been just long enough that I've forgotten some of the things I disliked about Chicago, and have perhaps inadvertently romanticized that relationship as well.
Spoke with Amy (Esq.) tonight after quite a little hiatus (we've spoken briefly in the past couple weeks, but nothing of substance...it was weeks, perhaps even months before that) and she relayed a horror story about her show business hottie baby sister and her Chicago parking ticket woes that just made me cringe in rememberance of the numberous times that I myself butted heads with the peons-that-be who live in that archetypal bureaucracy. In a nutshell, the political machine that is the Richie Daley administration has a little cash-generating operation that is otherwise known as the Department of Revenue (at least there's truth in advertising there), who in turn, controls the city's parking enforcement. They've got this whole little scam cooked up where they administer parking "rules", "laws" and "statutes", but all it basically is is a framework wherein they get to do whatever they like and take people's cars. I myself have fed several cars (of not insignificant value) and several thousand dollars' or my hard-earned (OK, well "earned) cash into said machine (I'm oversimplifying here, but I'm sure the idisyncracies have been dissected ad nauseam on other sites that I'm too lazy to look up at this point in time, and would make this already highly tangental post even more incoherent and incomprehensible; perhaps another day.) Anyway, suffice it to say, this surreal secondhand account of the three-ring circus that M's (Amy's hot sis) altercation with the DoR had become, reminded me of just how much I hated numerous aspects of life in the big city (shitty) they call the Second City: (some of which I'll no doubt explore in later entries)
- No handguns!
- Rapid/mass/public transit (I understand it's actually a pretty good system, but I still hated using it)
- The aforementioned DoR
- Absolutely HORRENDOUS 2/3rd day (5am-10pm) "rush hour" (seriously, don't try to go anywhere unless it's 3am...)
- Bah (my dad) is there, and while that's good from a pious son perspective, there's something to be said for the parental "buffer zone" extolled by Seinfeld and gang.
There are others, but my brain tires.
The point of all this is that I ended up in the CLT as a lark, a visit to my brother's gone horribly, horribly awry. Now that I've actually spent some time here (I can't believe it's been...13? months?! Crap...although that first six or so in Rock Hill really shouldn't count, as it's all the way down in SC, and I barely ever wandered North of the border, and of those six, I probably was on the road for three or four) and seen more of what life here has to offer, learned about the impending regional boom, and perhaps most importantly, built an increasingly strong social and support network of dear friends, I can honestly say that there's nowhere I'd rather be. Granted, travel to and from the area could be easier, as I believe that CLT is still one of the most expensive and inconvenient (from a flight continuity standpoint) airports to fly in and out of, but the recent arrival of a couple/few discount carriers (ATA notwithstanding, the bastards...well, not that I'd still be working for them anyway...damn those flight beneifts were tough to give up) should help alleviate that situation. Ah well, maybe start it's time to start thinking about looking at houses/lots, (and/or work as that last thing will necessitate) pretty soon, begin forming something resembling longer-range plans (insofar as my seat-of-the-pants mentality will allow) and see what happens.
Finally managed to delve into back taxes a bit, made more progress today than in the prior 7 or 8 years...however, I have now learned for a fact that while there is offically no penalty for filing late if one is due a refund, one loses any right to claim a refund three years after the original due date. In short, the last five weeks' inactivity has cost me in excess of a couple G's a week. Ouch. Expensive lessons are always the hardest learned, but my procrastination has cost me similarly on many occasion over the years, and no doubt will do so again in the future. It sucks, at times, to be lazy.
Turns out my old buddy AlanJ from way back, has taken a page from my experiences (check out the address) and started his own blogspot/blogger site, at http://vuewithin.blogspot.com. I learned this by his posting of a comment yesterday...
I've known this guy for probably about...maybe 8 years now? Perhaps longer, that number was just pulled out of the air. We basically never really talk, but clicked from the word "go", and the few times we've gotten together, have been great times...almost went into business together (remember BPS TechWorks? Haha...Where the hell is Jobe these days, anyway?) All-around good guy, seems to have a pretty interesting life (not altogether unlike myself, he shares a penchant for cars, gambling, and strippers...heck, he might even be the white version of me...hrm, actually, I'm not sure how that would work out, since I'm already basically white...), don't keep in touch with him enough...blog should make for interesting reading. Sounds like he's in a transitional stage, should try to get him down to the CLT to be a partner in crime...I'm sure we could stir up some trouble...hrm...or fire up that business idea again...hrm...
Right on AJ, it'll be good to hear about your crazy-ass shenanigans.
OK, late night munchies have gotten the better of me...a little bit of research finds that the Wings Over... people have, in addition to what is perhaps the worst web presence ever, at www.wingsover.com, a location in NC! Greenville though...266 miles by Google...and a "coming soon" store in an unspecified "Fayetteville"; let's hope they mean NC...still 135 miles, but at least it's closer than a White Castle! Road trip!
Ack! Dawn! off to bed...
posted by Gene at 6:15 AM
6 Comments:
lol i thought it was the OTHER alan...
Haha Ro...not THAT Alan...sorry! (I know how much you wanted him (or was that the other way around? Kidding...) ;)
Mmmmm, black mold fungus...
On the wife+girlfriend thang...tell me you don't savor the deliciousness potential of that?
In retrospect, Chicago wasn't even that bad...Minnie was C-O-L-D. and I'm told that by comparison, even that's not all that bad comapred to like Duluth or International Falls, MN...IF is apparently where they do all the extreme cold-wether testing for autos...brr! At 37 below, I'd doubt you could breathe through your nose for 3 full minutes...it'd probably fall clean off...with the wind chills, I remember negative into the 50s....damn, I love spring...and in the south, to boot!
Speaking of shots getting off the el, did you ever go to Miller's Pub on Wacker? right under the ravenswood/brown line el...if I ever did a "things I miss about Chicago" list, Miller's would be high on the list...they have the best goddamned prime rib in town...Kate and I had our first date there...[sigh]...now the best porterhouse is from Chop House on Ontario, across from the Hard Rock Cafe...
Maybe we should do a road trip...party all night, then I'll take y'all to Chinatown for 5am won ton soup and bubble tea...yum.
you did not just type y'all did you?
Hey, shoosh, I've ALWAYS said "y'all", even before I moved here...I just like the way it sounds...of course, as a yank living in the north, it was a cute idiosyncratic affliction. Now that I live here, people might think it's unintentional and thus, not funny anymore. Hrm...I might have to rethink the whole y'all thang (yes, I said "thang" see above).
Whatup homes? Ohio in the house. AJ's got my email addy you can hit me up at. Life's been good, still near Dayton doing IT work for the top dogs of the F500 list. Always looking for a biz idea, keep looking at franchises, both bigtime or expanding my dude's local thai restaurant. He's got me cooking there as a special guest from time to time - evenings/weekends. Never would have guessed that would happen. We'll see how it works out as I'm not that familiar with the cuisine yet.
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