Friday, December 23, 2011

Chicago- why can I only think of gangsters?

I love to travel, in case you have not noticed. Esentially, everything about it. I feel like the possibilities are unlimited when one steps onto the plane. On Wednesday, I was doing just that again, stepping from gate onto plane, and thus filled with the familiar aforementioned emotion. Now, of course I was minorly discouraged at the realization that I was once again surrounded by babies on a flight. However, this time it was a little bit different. The parents behind us had a  baby that was only slightly fussy, and the dad was desperately trying to calm his/her nerves by whisting at an extremely high volume in his/her ear. I am still torn on which was a greater annoyance- the father whistling or the baby crying. I have never actually been annoyed by the parent before.

Anyways, the flight was more or less pleasant, my headphones did their job perfectly, and I made it in one piece to Chicago. My excitement renewed at being somewhere away from home, I stepped off the plane and prepared myself for another adventure. I instantly realized, however, that the constant kind feelings felt in Boulder, CO are not a constant in places like Chicago. I think I knew this before, however my optimisitic attitude trumped my common sense reminding me that not everyone is open to positivity. I tried to be friendly to the lady at the salad bar and she blew me off, but I still would not let that get me down. What I did let get me down was the unimaginably evil cab driver.

I should have been able to tell from the get-go that this guy was not going to make for a pleasant ride, despite it being a very short one. I alerted him to it being a short trip, of course, before even getting into the car to avoid any anger from his side. This did not work at all.

I gave him the address I needed to get to along with a chipper smile, helped him load my bags into the trunk, and we were off. Now, of course, I do not know anything about the street layout of Chicaho whatsoever. So, tell me please, how this man expected me to notice when he was making the wrong turn, as he had "misheard" my directions. The answer is there is no way I would have ever known. So he tried to drop me off at the wrong location and essentially lost his mind when I alerted him that it was not the right spot. He goes "oh my GOD, why you say nothing!?" in his broken english and began swearing to himself. At this point, I wanted this cab ride to be over more than anything in the world. He finally got me to the right location, got mad again because it "took me too long to point to the house", dropped me off across the street and let me get my own bags out of the car. Needless to say, I called to complain about him.

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