My Kind of Town?

In moving to Chicago without a set of wheels, I've used Zipcar a couple times for various purposes. And both times, there was a CD left in the deck for my listening pleasure. The Toyota Tacoma had a compilation that I've named "Moving Day Mix Tape" and the Honda Element had an album by a band called Mute Math. Both CDs are pretty great and I'm excited to have them in my collection. Even more, I'm excited to return the favor. Or more accurately, to pay it forward. If you have suggestions for an album or themed-mix-CD to leave in my next Zipcar, let me know.

Something else: on Yelp.com, they let you know a place sucks by saying it's "full of Chads." Having been to Sweaty's and Tom-Tom's a few times back in the day, I know what they're talking about, and I know where to avoid in my search for the perfect neighborhood watering hole. "Fuck that bar, it's full of Chads." Apologies to Chad Nalick and Chad Pennington, two childhood pals from Candlelight Drive who are more than welcome to come and hang out if anybody knows where they are.

Our second night in town, we were by Wicker Park and I was trying to go off on my own and visit some friends in Lincoln Square to the north. As we sat on the side of Damen Avenue, maps spread out in our RAV4 with DC plates, a man came to the window saying something. Rather than open the window, we used our DC logic and assumed he wanted money or to sniper us. A few moments later, another man approached and started talking. Because he looked slightly less murderous, I opened the window. He asked if we were lost and needed help. The other gentleman also was offering help. After I explained the situation, the first man dialed a number on his phone, and handed it to me. "Tell them what you are trying to do." The guy had called the Chicago Transit Authority ride guide and lent me his phone. We got directions and got on our way. Feeling only slightly sheepish. Would these people have stopped to help random strangers in a car on the street in DC? I think not. Chicago is OK in my book.

Also, there is also a house two blocks away from me with a real cannon in the front yard. Unfortunately, it's behind an iron-wrought fence. Dammit.

Back to the Zipcar, I bought something at the Salvation Army that had to be tied to the top of the Honda Element. When I asked the guy inside if they had any twine I could steal, he said he'd meet me at the car. Three minutes later, the guy comes out with about a dozen neckties. He uses his Eagle Scout (or whatever they have where he came from -- it's not America) training to fashion two long ropes, and ties down my shit lickety split. It was amazing, and I'm using the neckties to construct a shrine in my apartment to the helpful people of Chicago. They are very nice.

There is no way in hell I will ever fit in here.