Sleepless In Chicago

Yes, it happened. It all happened, it's all true, and I've only changed a few minor details, to protect some identies.

I got called to Chicago at the last minute to work on a major networking problem. As it turns out, the customer did have some networking problems, but that wasn't the bulk of what was wrong. Here comes An Official Prediction By Henry: You will see more of this, and soon! Basically, some companies are rushing so hard to put in Y2K fixes that they are encountering side effects that are, in some cases, worse than the problems they are trying to fix!

What a mess! My boss informed me that I was not going to go home until it was fixed, and at times I had absolutely no clue what was wrong, where to start or what to do. OK, that's normal for me :-) but this time The Customer {genuflect} was paying My Employer's rates! I didn't know if I'd ever go home!

I now know why they call Chicago The Windy City. Yes, it is that windy. But Chicago natives tell me that the slogan really refers to the fact that politics can shift one way or another without warning. A perfect example is their new governor, who is apparently known as "The Chameleon" locally.

They were also quick to point out that when Russia was poised to become a republic they had no concept of voting booths, so they ordered them from Chicago for the first Russian free election. Mayor Daley won by a landslide.

Two different Chicago natives related that anecdote to me, with straight faces, within 12 hours of my arrival.

But it really is windy. And there is no litter on the streets. The people are tough, but fair, and most people (that I encountered) smiled a lot. Imagine, people smiling and saying "hi!" to you on the streets--perfect strangers! It is a nice thing.

I also got to go to Buddy Guy's blues club, and boy!--did I hear some great music! Nice music scene!

However... I was all prepared. I had to pack in a hurry, but I gathered all my important papers in one folder. I made lists, one copy went in the folder, one went on the kitchen table. I double checked and cross checked, and thought there was no way I could forget anything.

Wrong.

When I got to the airport I realized I'd forgotten the folder.

For the first time, my employer let me fly out of New Haven, and I'd allowed myself plenty of extra time. So I called a friend; she went back and even managed to retrieve the folder and get it to me before I got on the plane. From there on, it was a smooth flight to Philadelphia.

In Philadelphia, however, our flight was late because the flight crew was late getting to us because their plane was late. Not only were we delayed, but we lost our place in the take off order, so we had to wait on the runway for a long time. No problem, I always travel with a book. OK, so we finally got to the head of the line, we did a run up and were poised at the end of the runway. Then the captain announced that we had to return to the terminal; the rudder pedals were binding.

There was another 2 hour delay while they came up with another airplane.

I finally got to Chicago without incident, and spent 2 days there. Then, on to Schaumburg (and this is relevant) on Tuesday. I had to leave the Chicago hotel room by checkout time, and when I got to Schaumburg it was a bit early to check in. I said I'd wait, but no... they had a room ready for me on the first floor, so I took it. Exhausted (I spent the week exhausted) I figured I'd lay down for a simple 1 hour nap (since I was 1 hour early) and then I'd inform my boss I had arrived.

But I soon found out that there was no way to get the room warm. Cold air was blowing in around the window, and there was no way to close it tighter; it didn't open or close. Back to the front desk. I reiterated that I would be happy to wait for a room. But no... they had a room for me, on the 12th floor. Nice room, nice view, it was warm. I took it. By this time it was too late for a nap. So I checked in, got oriented, and worked until 7:00 pm.

I had to be up at 6:00 the next morning, so I had some room service dinner, went over my notes and collapsed into bed. At about 11:00 pm I noticed that there was a party going on... right outside my door. I tossed on some clothes and asked the participants if they could move their party down the hall or somewhere else. They were very nice about it, and seemed to agree. I went back to bed.

It must've been about an hour later when I was wakened again. The party was now in full swing, and it was right outside my door! Again. This time I was not so happy. I tossed on some clothes again, of course I didn't bother to tie back my hair, so it was flying all about, and so was I. I stomped out the door and asked them to please move the party, somewhat less politely this time. Someone shouted into a room: "Hey, gov'ner! Someone wants us to move the party!" Honestly, folks, I thought it was just a figure of speech! So this old guy in a (nice) business suit addressed to me those (He did, he really said it!) immortal words that I had, up until that very moment, thought were just a cliche: "Young man, do you know who I am?" I told him that I didn't give a rat's ass if he was Moses.

He retreated into his room for a minute or two, and came back all smiles. He was suddenly friendly and polite and said that of course we'd work something out. He also escorted me back to my room. When I got in the telephone was ringing. It was the front desk. They told me they had a very nice room for me on the 6th floor if only I would be willing to move. I was not willing to move, at that hour, for that reason, and for the second time that day! No way! I was quite specific about that.

And then they told me that the man I'd just insulted was George Ryan, the new Governor of Illinois. This was his victory celebration.

Guess who ended up moving?

I ended up on the 6th floor. In a drafty room. I just kept it for the remainder of the trip. I was too tired to fight any more.

I started realizing what was wrong and got to fixing things on Thursday. By the end of the day it was clear that with a late night on Thursday and a good few early hours on Friday, I'd get to make my flight time and leave early Friday afternoon. By Friday morning I was all set and, once again, packed and prepared.

Too bad the limo driver wasn't. He was late. It soon became clear why. He spoke almost no English, and he wasn't your most conscientious worker either; he got so totally lost that the dispatcher couldn't get him out of it. He was supposed to be picking up some one at 1418 Durant street, but he kept driving in circles. I was worried by now, about making my flight. Finally he pulled up in front of a house on a random street: 1418 Evergreen. And, if I could see the sign, he sure could! (Of course, I could read it...) He got out, rang the bell, and then got back in the car and announced to the dispatcher that there was nobody at 1418 Durant. The dispatcher told him to go back to the airport.

Too late. I missed my flight.

So I caught a later flight. And perhaps that flight would've even gotten me in to Philadelphia in time to make the shuttle to New Haven. I'll never know.

They had radar problems in Philadelphia.

So, when we finally did land--in Philadelphia; there was much discussion amongst the passengers about where we'd land--I'd missed my shuttle and (luckily!) was able to get a booking on the last flight of the day to New Haven. After a 3 hour wait.

I got home around 10:30 on Friday night, and had a 9:00 AM!!! sound check on Saturday MORNING!

I was exhausted, fried, burnt, out, a complete mess, and I missed The Kids. Until I walked in the door. My children had had a party the day before I left for some 20-or-so teenagers. I came back to a pig sty. And the cat had thrown up on the living room rug.

They did pitch in and clean the house.

While I was away my ailing phone finally fried, so my phone appeared to everyone to be busy for a week. Which was good; no messages could get through!

I've recovered now, but I think it will be a long time until I see Chicago again. Hopefully, by the time I return they will have a new governer, and it will be safe to sleep in Chicago again.