An obstructed view

So I thought I'd write a bit about my adventures last night and my issues with late nights.

A friend of mine was in a comedy show, so being a patron of the arts, I went to see the show scheduled to start at 8. I figured an hour would be plenty of time to travel the 15-20 miles into the city from home. Merging onto the "expressway," I bopped my head from side to side, synchronous to the tunes on my semi-functional iPod. After about 3-4 miles of clear sailing I ran into what some may call traffic. This happened to me before. Here's my notion of driving in Chicago: If I drive after rush hour there shouldn't be traffic/anyone in my way. This notion seems to be invalid. I've never understood traffic, especially on expressways. If everyone goes at or near the speed limit and doesn't drive like a fool there shouldn't be problems. Apparently, merging presents issues for many drivers.

So I'm rolling along at the blazing speed of 15 miles per hour and see a sign for my exit. Off I go to the even slower Lawrence Avenue. The next thirty minutes involved me looking at the clock, 7:45, my speedometer, a red light, the clock, 7:53, red light, stagnant speedometer, red light. It was infuriating because I had to be someplace AT 8.

Pulling a page out of the Andrew Playbook, I finally got to the general vicinity of the theater at 8:03. I parked the beast then hustled out of the car grabbing my phone from the passenger seat and ditching my iPod in a pocket. After walking to the theater I realized I left my wallet in my car. Back to the car. Amazingly both the car and my wallet were still in the lot.

Thankfully the theater wasn't punctual and I didn't miss any of my friend's show.

As to the show, it was Love Is Dead and was quiet good. The ending left me a little confused as to the overall message, which was veering toward positive and uplifting before the end. Here's a minimalist description: lonely mortician, loves the dead a little too much, serial killer, Mayberryesque police staff, song and dance. I did have a man with a Guinness World Record-size melon for a head. It seriously blocked out half the stage. Craning around his notorious noggin did allow me to exercise my neck muscles.

After the show, the various local chapters of the Jenna fan club congregated outside of the theater. I received two questions while standing around: Is this the line for the bathroom? and Is this the line to get in to the show?

After chatting at the theater, I rounded out the night with a quick stop in my jazz haunt, the Green Mill, with Jenna. The quartet was good and we caught their last number.

I made good time coming home after finding the expressway-- I swear it moves. Took about 20 minutes to get home. In bed by 2:30.

Here's my main issue with staying up late. I consider myself a morning person. Some people are able to stay out late and sleep late the following day. My stubborn body clock wont allow it. If I stay out until 2 or 3 a.m. I will still wake at 7:30 or, if I'm lucky, 9. The next day is usually wasted as I catch up on sleep with mininaps. This time I was good about not letting my mind wander while driving home. Usually, my thought process goes something like this:

Hmmm.
It's 1:45. I woke up at 7. That means I've been up for, 7 to 7 is 12, plus 5 and 2. 19 hours.
If I fall asleep as soon as I get home and sleep until 9 that will be 7 hours.

That's just part of the thought process. Sometimes I start figuring out the last time I ate. I think that's part of the reason I don't fare well late at night. My stomach, like my body clock, is fickle. It likes sustenance every 4 hours.

Nonetheless, it was fun to get out and see a good friend, some theater and jazz. Truly a complete evening.