"The world is not all about Two Dollar Tuesdays anymore," a wise one once said while signing an 18 dollar check in a dimly lit bar. "It's about nine dollar cocktails."
My eyes almost welled up with tears because of this sudden slap in the face. I was passively aggressively being told to grow the hell up.
Two and a half weeks ago, I broke out of the large IU fish tank and became a small fish in a big lake-- Lake Michigan that is. I moved out of the familiar college town and moved to Chicago, IL. I like to think I'm one step closer to being Carrie Bradshaw, who I not so secretly kind of want to be like.
Currently, I am searching for a job. I want a job to obtain some cash money to keep up my drinking and fashion habits. More than that, I want people to quit asking me if I got a job and for some to quit talking in such a condescending and pushy tone to me about getting a job. Yes, I know I need one, thanks so much for the cheery welcome into the adult world. I kind of figured the stay-at-home roommate position was not something I wanted to do forever. I do feel like a desperate housewife who spends the day lunching with the ladies, running errands, shopping and sunning. Maybe those people just bother me to get a job so I don't terrorize my new city of residence.
On a highly enthusiastic note though, not having a job allows me to explore the city. I love it here. My first weeks here I've been getting lost on the friendly streets and trying to learn my cardinal directions. I know the lake is east but when I'm in the middle of the city am I supposed to smell it out or feel the direction of the breeze and know where it is behind all the tall buildings?! Needless to say, I should invest in a high tech compass as well as comfy shoes for all the strutting I've been doing. As per usual, the corners are my friends.
I've also encountered many interesting people. There was the woman who ambushed my car's open passenger window pretending to be unbelivably upset. She screamed that her car broke down and ran out of gas and she had a baby in the car and had to get home and her brother didn't show up. Her plea was for 10 or 20 dollars. She also insisted on taking my address so she could send the money back.
My mother and I "searched" our wallets in the awkward moment and gave her a fiver. The donation was mostly to get her to go away and buy her crack. Homegirl, where was your baby, your car, and why the hell didn't you just call Triple A or ask the cops for help?! If you're going to hussle people for crack money at least stage something more believable. Also, like hell I'd give you my address, so you can rob me and I'd have to take time out of my "busy" day to kick your ass (my doorman's busy day to kick your ass). From now on I use the air conditioning when rolling down that street.
Days and nights later, a man taking money out of the Chase ATM sweetly hit on me. After no responses to any of his three mumbled comments, he felt the need to ask me how I was going to play him like that. Maybe taking out a twenty while wearing a dress was a pick up attempt to him. Maybe if I took out 40 it would be considered a saucy marriage proposal. Taking out 60 dollars would not be appropriate for the kids' eyes.
This is just a brief update. All in all, it's strange being in a new setting. I haven't really been in a completely new setting in a while and it will take some time to get completely comfortable. So far my personal advice about learning to love Chicago is to check out as many different hot dog and pizza places as possible and walk the Navy Pier dock at night while looking at the glittering city skyline. Those things alone will make you love being here. Not like there was even a question of if I'd love it.
