(Prepare to scroll...)
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Spent the day at mostly mindless tasks, which satisfied my need to mentally wander around...'twas nice. Thought about upcoming events, worked out the beginning of a good story (it starts in an orange grove...), and generally pondered the imponderables.
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The place I am working has a small office and a manufacturing warehouse. Most, if not all, of the warehouse workers are Hispanic. One must walk through the warehouse to reach the only coffee pot in the place (!!). This morning, as I passed through, two of the women and one of the men were talking about me in Spanish as I passed (nothing bad...just commenting). My dilemma is this: do I let on that I understand Spanish or do I remain silent in hopes of overhearing something juicy?
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The office is in an old manufacturing complex near two of my favorite spots - a park that was created from the grounds of an old TB asylum (some of the original ward buildings are still up) and Bohemian National Cemetery, which if you live in Chicago, you must visit at least once. That is an order.
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Got home early and went out to mail a paper towel to someone (don't ask...). There was a car stopped in the middle of my street and one of the local gang kids was leaning in, talking to the driver. A Range Rover pulled up behind them and started laying on the horn, even though he could easily have pulled around them. He kept honking, then shouted something (I was at the corner by then and didn't hear what), and then the next thing I knew...the stopped car was screeching away and the guy was out of the Range Rover, chasing the gang kid. I watched for a minute then went on my way.
When I came back down the street, Range Rover guy was standing in front of the gang building across from Wendy's screaming "Come out, you pussy! I'll fucking kill you!". Thinking there might be a casual shot out the window just to shut the guy up, I changed my route and walked back an extra block so as not to be in the middle of anything. When I got to my door, the Range Rover guy was still in the middle of the street screaming and telling anyone who passed that "SOME ASSHOLE IN THAT BUILDING SPAT ON MY CAR! I'LL FUCKING KILL HIM, MAN. I'LL FUCKING STAND OUTSIDE THIS BUILDING EVERY FUCKING DAY UNTIL I SEE HIS ASS." He stood out there yelling for almost 20 minutes until a cop car pulled up and told him to shut the hell up, consider himself lucky that he wasn't hurt or killed by the guys who live in that house, and get the hell out of here.
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Will I miss this kind of thing? Oddly, yes, I will.
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And now, I am cooking some really yummy dinner -- a dinner that contains enough garlic to assure my protection from vampires well into my next lifetime -- and wishing someone was here to share it with me.
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Tick.
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Tock.
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