Airing my Philthy Laundry

Worst Day Ever

In an effort to make you feel good about your life, I'm going to tell you about my day today.
Chicago is perhaps one of the best places in the country to be during the summer. Usually warm but tolerable temperatures are typical, and everywhere you turn, there's some sort of street festival with local talent and an abundance of food and beer. That's where my story begins, the "Summer on Southport" celebration that is currently taking place 20 yards from my apartment.
This particular festival sprang up with no warning what-so-ever, and since I was one of the unfortunate few to park my car on Southport the day before, my car was towed to make room for a face painter or something. I noticed this Saturday early in the afternoon. Since I was on my way to Lollapalooza, I called about my car, found out where it was, and decided to enjoy day one of this two day music extravaganza, which I did.
The plan for today was to get the car this morning (Sunday) head back downtown for Day 2 of Lolla...but plans don't always go the way you hope. I couldn't find anyone to take me to the impound lot so I had to take a cab. $25 later, I make it there, very sweaty since today is the hottest day of the year in Chicago and the cab I picked had no air conditioning. I arrive to very pleasant workers who tell me my car is there and they just need to see my ID. But upon looking at my ID they see my name is Phil, and not John, who the car is registered under. I say "John is my father, the car should be registered under both of our names." She says that she only sees my dad and she can't give me the car. I need a notarized letter from my father saying that it is ok that I take MY CAR from the premises. Phone call home, and surprisingly my dad is in taking a break from the heat inside the house. Since he's the best Dad ever, he runs around town, finds a notary public and faxes this to this woman. Unfortunately for me, it takes an hour. An hour that I am stuck in a trailer in the middle of a parking lot, at over 100 degrees, with no A/C watching several other angry people from all over the city try to get their cars back as well. I'm sweating in places I didn't even know I had glands. When my dad's fax finally comes, disaster number two happens...Cash only. The woman tells me "There's a Mobil station a few blocks from here. Just go north about three blocks and then go left a few more blocks until you get to the corner of Heatstroke & Despair." So I start to walk, in the heat, and all the sudden, my sandal breaks. I continue the trek with one shoe on the hot sidewalk decorated with broken glass and disease. Mobil station, money, walk back. I'm dripping with sweat, writhing with pain from my lopsided walk. Now I actually get to walk to my car...space 329. The impound lot is like a desert of auto parts. Some cars have flats, some have been broken into, some have been stripped for parts. Mine, praise the lord, seems to be ok. I go through the rest of the procedures, give the city of Chicago $200 for my car and make my way home, over 3 hours later. I'm so pissed, and tired, and hot, that I decide not to attempt to go to the second half of the second day of Lollapalooza and instead nurse myself back to hydration in my air conditioned apartment. Worst day ever.

posted by philthy @ 7:06 PM