Chicago, Day Two
A year committed to doing something seems to me to be a significant amount of time to pay yourself on the back for it. I may have gotten this idea from a local news story I saw as a kid one New Year’s Day. A twelve year-old boy and his parents had made a deal the previous New Year’s that if the kid didn’t watch any television for the whole year, they would pay him six hundred dollars. While nowadays that same story would mostly shock me yet again as to just how irritating white people can be with their yuppie parenting methods, back then I was in awe of how (and *why*) a kid would put himself thru such torture. If at twelve my Mom had told me that times were tough and we no longer had the six hundred dollars a year that cable television cost us, I probably would have gone out and gotten my first job. Regardless, the story made such an impact on me that I’ve always since thought that a year’s worth of commitment to just about anything resembling a sacrifice is worthy of reward.
So after a year of holding down my first full-time office job, an internal timer went off and told me that I had done my duty and deserved to do something a little crazy, but something that I have had my heart set on doing for most of this decade. I checked out of my job and my apartment and have begun to travel the country by trains. I am anxious by nature and have a bad habit of convincing myself that most decisions I make are the wrong ones immediately after making a choice. So luckily this one year reward meter supercedes all that and so far I’ve been able to wander around guilt-free.
Yesterday was my first day stepping off the train, by force at the Cardinal’s final stop, Chicago. My original plan had been to hop on a connection head straight to Madison. But as the train was in its final hours approaching the Windy City, I decided that I might as well get out and enjoy it while I was here. It’s been almost twenty-eight years; Madison could wait another day.
Chicago wasn’t too difficult to put things together in on the fly. My “college buddy” Sean Mulvihill had just been thru New York a few weeks back and stayed on my couch, so it was easy enough to call him up and know that he’d be more than willing to return the favor. But then came the question of what to do with myself with an evening to kill. Not only am I bad at making plans, I also struggle when forced to make a decision amongst a countless number of choices. Tell me the world is my oyster and watch me clam up.
Luckily, I have been blessed with terrific friends who are often ready at the drop of a hat to point me in the right direction. So instead of spending a cold and rainy night seeing the second half of a Sox game (literally the *only thing* I could think to do once 6:30 rolled around), my friend Kristin rallied for me from New York and connected the dots between me and her childhood friend Mike Leibowitz. He happened to be performing in a free stand-up show at a club called Zanies in Old Town and even offered to comp me. The nice thing about knowing a comedian at a stand-up show is that no matter how terrible the collection of comics inevitably is, you don’t question why you just wasted two hours of yr life since you were mostly there to support someone.
My expectations for this particular showcase was particularly low since it was taking place at a club called Zanies. You would think with all of the big name comedians who had signed their headshots on the wall (Jay Leno, Richard Lewis) that I would have soaring expectations. But the sad reality is that most of the material that you see in these clubs often feels like it was written around the same time those pictures were taken. On the flipside, low expectations are rarely a bad thing, and a couple of good zingers (like how Neil Armstrong should have come back with moon powers such as never having to wear a condom again) were enough to satisfy me. And most importantly Mike was really solid and natural. Having to get a beer with my friend’s friend who turned out to be a douchebag stand-up might have been enough to ruin Chicago for me once and for all.
Mike turned out to be not just a decent stand-up comedian, but a stand up guy as well. He bought me a beer and even gave me a ride back to Sean’s up in Edison Park. It’s nice to be able to discover a comedian friend. It can be so difficult. Two guys whose primary means of social interaction is to make the people around them laugh often have a tough time finding a comfortable rapport with one another.
Mike can also be added onto the list of people who wonder what it is I am “searching for” with this trip. I keep responding that my month of roaming around was not spurred by a desire to find myself nor am I on any sort of specific quest. But I wonder.
