1,001 Chicago Afternoons

The biggest casualty of that slice of pizza was my transit pass. » Read the rest of this entry «

“Pakistan,” the cabbie said in response to my first question.

“15 years,” he said in response to my second.

“You know, it’s funny,” he said as we pulled around the corner away from the bar and toward my sweet, sweet bed. » Read the rest of this entry «

“Man, I missed this,” I thought as the firetruck siren wailed behind me and the patch of ice my front tire sniffed out like a bloodhound started skidding me toward a parked Nissan. » Read the rest of this entry «

Between the dentists and the dogs, Ulan had been having a busy weekend. » Read the rest of this entry «

The man in the zip-up cardigan, branded Metra blazer and hat that said TRAINMAN on the front pursed his lips and made a juggling/weighing-of-options motion with his hands.

“It’s the same thing. The conductor is like in charge,” he said, choosing each word with care. “But it’s the same thing.” » Read the rest of this entry «

The first bus blared its horns at the second.

It wasn’t just the coy beep beep that signals one bus passing the other. It was angrier, lower, louder somehow. A lean-in blaaat honked three times rather than the “passing you” two. » Read the rest of this entry «

She was a set of eyes and a nose to me, and I to her.

We sat across from each other on the Purple Line express, bundled in hats and scarves. We had separately chosen the inward-facing seats by the door; a blast of icy air at each stop and a broken heater in between kept us in our winter goodness.

I kept glancing at the little bits of plastic sticking from under her butt. » Read the rest of this entry «

Peace to the old man sipping drinks at the VFW bar.

And the bagpiper on the condo roof.

Peace to the newsman, chasing stories for cartoons.

Peace to the lady who jammed in Tunisia.

And peace to the one who makes really sexy ladies’ underthings. » Read the rest of this entry «

Manic Pixie Dream Girl and The Irishman had a tragic love affair, which is why they wait for the train at different sections of the platform. » Read the rest of this entry «

I’m thankful that I’m almost at story 250. I’m thankful my girlfriend helped with the pie and I’m going to get to show my cousin the record store with the old arcade games in the back.

It’s Thanksgiving, that day of rest spent complaining the world doesn’t give you time to be thankful. » Read the rest of this entry «