I met Bradley Arnold at Union Station in Chicago where his pocket had been picked and he was broke. He had come to Chicago from Detroit, seeking employment, so that he could get his 4-year old daughter Grace-Lynn away from East Detroit, where 6-year old kids carry AK-47's.
Both of us broke, by 7:00 that evening, we had $19.25 plus a CTA pass and a ride to the Glenview, IL transportation center where we would take a bus to Des Plaines, and a train to Barrington. But I knew our driver lived in Wheeling, and there is a transportation center there too, so, in order to have extra beer money, I decided we should instead go to Wheeling, catch a bus to Mount Prospect, and then the train to Barrington.
Nominally, a solid plan, except that there were no more buses back to Mount Prospect, and this train didn't even run to Chicago. Thinking over our options, I failed to notice Bradley noticing the most beautiful woman I have ever stood close to or converse with, and Bradley thought to himself, "I'll show her what a gentleman I am and get the door for her."
This play worked well, and they began to converse and she gave him one of her two mini bottles of wine. She asked a couple of Hispanic gentlemen about how to get to Chicago and was advised that she could not. At this point, I entered the conversation to advise that we needed merely to take this train to Prairie Crossing in Libertyville, cross the tracks, and pick up the Metra from Fox Lake back to Union station. Swimmingly well, this is going, thinks I.
But, upon boarding the train, we found our funds entirely drained by the train fares, and Bradley and I would not even be able to make it to Chicago, which was no problem, since we could get off at Forest Glen, walk to Jefferson Park, catch the El to O'hare, and then a courtesy bus North. Which we almost did, until I recalled the 34th commandment: "Thou shalt not call ma and pa for a ride from Bumblefuck Anywhere, at no hour of the day nor night wilt thou make such a call."
So we hopped on a courtesy bus to Elk Grove Village, from where we walked 12 miles to the Roselle train station, stopping twice to sleep, in that homoerotic position, back to back, which warms the whole body. Borrowed a cell phone there and called Terrible Tom Sucher, my long suffering bridge partner, to see if we could pay him and Margaret a visit. Not this morning, Margaret is not feeling too well.
"So then Tom, can do you me a favor?"
"Possibly."
"Could you call my folks and have them come to the Roselle train station."
"You forgot to ask the other question. I'll see you in a little while."
And thus did it come to pass that Tom picked up me and Bradley and drove us to Barrington, where we got some breakfast, and the $58.50 Bradley needed to get back to Detroit to be with his daughter whom his grandmother, who had gotten real sick, and will die in the next 24 hours.
Both of us broke, by 7:00 that evening, we had $19.25 plus a CTA pass and a ride to the Glenview, IL transportation center where we would take a bus to Des Plaines, and a train to Barrington. But I knew our driver lived in Wheeling, and there is a transportation center there too, so, in order to have extra beer money, I decided we should instead go to Wheeling, catch a bus to Mount Prospect, and then the train to Barrington.
Nominally, a solid plan, except that there were no more buses back to Mount Prospect, and this train didn't even run to Chicago. Thinking over our options, I failed to notice Bradley noticing the most beautiful woman I have ever stood close to or converse with, and Bradley thought to himself, "I'll show her what a gentleman I am and get the door for her."
This play worked well, and they began to converse and she gave him one of her two mini bottles of wine. She asked a couple of Hispanic gentlemen about how to get to Chicago and was advised that she could not. At this point, I entered the conversation to advise that we needed merely to take this train to Prairie Crossing in Libertyville, cross the tracks, and pick up the Metra from Fox Lake back to Union station. Swimmingly well, this is going, thinks I.
But, upon boarding the train, we found our funds entirely drained by the train fares, and Bradley and I would not even be able to make it to Chicago, which was no problem, since we could get off at Forest Glen, walk to Jefferson Park, catch the El to O'hare, and then a courtesy bus North. Which we almost did, until I recalled the 34th commandment: "Thou shalt not call ma and pa for a ride from Bumblefuck Anywhere, at no hour of the day nor night wilt thou make such a call."
So we hopped on a courtesy bus to Elk Grove Village, from where we walked 12 miles to the Roselle train station, stopping twice to sleep, in that homoerotic position, back to back, which warms the whole body. Borrowed a cell phone there and called Terrible Tom Sucher, my long suffering bridge partner, to see if we could pay him and Margaret a visit. Not this morning, Margaret is not feeling too well.
"So then Tom, can do you me a favor?"
"Possibly."
"Could you call my folks and have them come to the Roselle train station."
"You forgot to ask the other question. I'll see you in a little while."
And thus did it come to pass that Tom picked up me and Bradley and drove us to Barrington, where we got some breakfast, and the $58.50 Bradley needed to get back to Detroit to be with his daughter whom his grandmother, who had gotten real sick, and will die in the next 24 hours.
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