What I didn't know I was missing

I've been in Chicago for, ooh, about 10 hours and being here has reminded me of one thing. I love living in the city. I hadn't really noticed in the last week or so, but I love the buzz, the people, the grotty corner shops. Just the buzz.

Of course, that may be because I've been living in a hotel community on the edge of a major highway, and not within miles of a proper town. We shall have to see how it goes when I actually do find a place to live. In the meantime, I shall enjoy being back in a big place!

By god Sears Tower is an ugly lump of soulless crap. I'm sure the views are great, though...

It's like a foreign country out here

Now I'm not one to make sweeping generalisations. Except, of course, when I'm talking about other people. But, by God this place needs some things sorting out.

Socks. It's not a difficult concept. If you are wearing shoes, you wear socks. Not wearing socks in this situation is disgusting. Especially when the only shoes you wear are trainers. Here's a simple equation for you: trainers + no socks = ugh. Rule 2 is also quite simple; unless you are actively participating in a sporting event, do not wear white sports socks. See. Simple. Finally, if you are wearing sandals, don't wear any socks.

Also, being earnest. There's nothing wrong with supporting your troops for Memorial Day. A little militaristic, perhaps, but the cannon fodder do not choose who and where they fight. But don't mistake patriotism for militarism. If the only way you can support your country is by supporting the bombing of a less-developed nation, you have a problem. But hey, if you don't watch Fox News, you can find people questioning the Iraq war...

But that's not the most worrying earnest item I need to bring to your attention. No. That honour belongs to a jaw droppingly, outrageously shocking advert. The deep, silky smooth voice-over begins by telling us of all the problems in the world - not that you'd realise that there was an outside world from watching the news or sport on TV here (or reading the papers. Or listening to the radio). It then goes on to tell us how we all put these ill feelings aside for two weeks to celebrate - guess what? - the Olympics.

Oh yes. In Iraq and Afghanistan, soldiers and insurgents will lay down their arms and spontaneously start a game of football. And Mugabe will realise what a cock he's been and resign; and China will pull out of Tibet. Ah yes, China. The beacon of humanitarian enlightenment, where the cash-grabbing IOC have decided to hold their quadrennial orgy of corporate-sponsored overconsumption, performance-enhancing drug stories and mockery of decency. But none of this matters, because for two weeks, Visa tells us, we can ignore all that is hateful in the world because a few steroid-pumped freaks are running around a track built on the blood of the workers.

And the shameful slogan for this demand for ignorance? Go World.

I'm going to go and have a beer before my anger gland explodes and destroys central New Jersey. Go World!

Number of orange jumpsuits being worn? ZERO.

Ha. I'm in. Although without internet access in my hotel, so you'll have to be patient for proper updates (i.e. until I get to work). Suffice to say, I have a gun and a pick up and live in a trailer.

I have none of these things.

Licence and registration

So, there I was, driving around Princeton looking for a parking space, when I take a right at a red light (as the law allows). Behind me, the red & blue lights flash... Bollocks, I thought. I must have missed the sign saying "No right turns on red"; hopefully, I can bluff my way out of this, and play the dumb foreigner abroad.

Oh, no. No no no.

"Your right turn was fine, sir. But your car is unregistered."

Probably a felony... Bang goes my visa...

It turns out that National had rented me a car that had been unregistered since November. November.

Fortunately, the copper was forgiving, and didn't even wave his gun at me, and after 10 minutes on the phone he let me go (with the car, although it should have been towed), and told me to give National hell! Not my fault, apparently. Of course, that won't help me if I get pulled over tomorrow...

Guess who's back, back again...

Ahoy! I'm back. Way too much has happened since I last updated (well over 2 years ago), so I'll just fill you in gradually and where necessary. But not now. It's just too much. Suffice to say, it's all change. Or mostly all change. With more to come...

Join me on my next (intermittently updated) journey.

x

No future...

Jesus. I don't think my liver can take much more of this. Although, having said that, I think my physical constitution is considerably stronger than my financial one. So, after a week and a half of schmoozing, catching up and generally drinking, I think I'll spend the rest of October sober and resolutely not in the pub.

A week ago on Thursday I was out with Miss Disco, during which time we discussed nothing much in particular, achieved nothing of substance and had a good time. Then on Friday, I went to Northern Mark's leaving do, for he is leaving the grown-up world of work and returning to university to study for a Master's. The last I saw of him, he was swaying unsteadily on his feet at 3am in Club NME in Koko (formerly, and forever in my mind, the Camden Palace). I knew I was old, but not recognising the songs and shaking my head at the badly dressed indie kids just showed me how far I've progressed into old age... Plus, yet another night bus home. Note to self: Get Rich Quick. On Saturday, I slept. On Sunday, I recovered further with red wine.

Then: Monday – consoling a friend, with gin; Tuesday – boozing with The Boy and JoJo (and The Girlfriend); Wednesday – night off; Thursday – took The Girlfriend for dinner to celebrate Five. Long. Years together; Friday – beers after work; Saturday – Mother down, England match viewed in pub. All too much...

By contrast, this week has been much quieter.