Not Drowning. Waving.

Americans have an enormous problem with the fact that i’m travelling alone, and seem to believe it’s their duty to rectify that sad state of affairs. An announcement of the fact that I am indeed in the country by myself is met with an incredulous look – closely followed by intimate questions regarding my relationship status “Are you married?”, “Why not?” and “Where are your family?”

Usually once I have established myself as an unloveable orphan I am usually bequeathed my very own American tour guide/confidante/lover (in whichever order) which I do find incredibly kind – but equally incredibly irritating. There is something so beautifully peaceful about being by oneself, and sometimes sitting peacefully with a glass of wine, or walking a strange city street totally alone is like communing with a higher power. Your mind can wander where it will, you don’t have to make conversation.. and can I wax more lyrically? Probably – but i’m even boring myself so i’ll introduce you to my kindly donated companion yesterday… Floyd.

Floyd came upon me as I was walking out of a Borders store downtown. I’d spent the afternoon at Millennium Park and the Sears Tower and was feeling most delighted in the situation I found myself in. I planned to walk up Michigan Avenue, head to Navy Pier, hit American Apparel, eat a pizza and then head back to the hostel for a quick shower before going to The Green Mill for some jazz.

Crossing the road, I get tapped on the shoulder by a very tall man with a booming voice and told “get your ticket out of your back pocket, someone will steal it” – I’m like… what ticket?! (it was the sears tower ticket.. just junk). So I thank him for his kind advice, and we get chatting. He invited me to a show with someone called Dave Roz (?) and someone else called Pee Wee Herman or something.. Peebles ?? No idea. Anyway I declined, but he insisted and was quite bullying and guilting.. so of course – being the pussy that I am, I get bamboozled to going to Navy Pier with him by bus to walk around before the show. (but secretly on the inside I was a bit miffed).

We wander around Navy Pier- chatting away, and he ascertains I am an unloved orphan with no friends and tells me that he’s there for me if I need companionship. Basically – I decline, and try to exit stage left using tiredness as an excuse.

and was in for a bit of a shock… as Floyd wasn’t going to be put off so easily.

Grasping my hand he announces that I can’t go as he’s lonely – to which I replied that him being lonely wasn’t my problem and i wanted to go home. I then got shouted at and told that I had “misled him” and I was “a player”. All in public mind you. I laughed awkwardly and thought he was joking so played along a bit, gave him a pat on the shoulder and made a big deal of being tired and having to go.

We walked to the end of the pier.

By this time he was wailing and pretending to cry. But the icing on the cake was not that I was being defamed and called a ‘user’, but when he started hollering at me “Is this because you think I’m the wrong colour?” To be honest he could have been purple with green spots for all I cared, I just wanted to get away from this enormous 48 year old anxious, lonely man who was behaving like a lunatic.

I finally did get away – though he insisted on getting on the same bus as me and “seeing me to my subway station” – he walked me to the station then put a gold love heart in my bag pocket and made me “give him a hug” like “I loved him”.

I have never been so relieved to get on public transport in my life… and threw the stupid heart out the window. What a f*cking creep! And not only that, I then get honed in on by a guy called Chris on the train – who actually was pretty chilled out – though I was VERY edgy after my Floyd experience. I almost feel like avoiding downtown altogether just in case he bumps into me again and starts accusing me of rejecting him based on colour. It’s not very encouraging when people don’t realise that no matter what colour, race or creed you are – if you’re an asshole. You’re an asshole.

And no – I’m not married, and yes, I am travelling alone. Thanks for asking.

Lost Post..

I lost the post about the hot Spaniard in SFO (mustn’t harp on!). I lost it, then found, and now i’ve lost it again.. how annoying – it was hilarious.

Anyway – on way out to go to The Green Mill jazz club.. Way uptown. Had my afternoon hijacked by a f*ckwit today which has left me tired, grumpy and very hungry with no time to eat. I just want to be left alone to enjoy some chill time.. seems all and sundry feel it’s their duty to be my ‘companion’ as i’m travelling alone. *sigh*

Goin’ to Chicago – Sorry but I can’t take you!

I am in Chicago. And I love it – more than San Fran, but much less than NY (nothing can top that city..)Chicago is big, sprawling and full of diverse and interesting people.. I’ve been offered free crepes, free wifi and free love all within 2 days. I was most interested in the free wifi.

The flight to get here was a nightmare, I booked an early one – got up at 4am to get it.. it was very cheap because it went via Las Vegas (which if you look at a map of the USA is NOT between San Francisco and Chicago) and it would take about 7 hours. But I thought at least i’ll save a few dollars, right? Wrrrrrong choice.

Basically we all piled onto the plane, and then were told – after sitting there for 20 mins, that the pilot was rejecting that plane as the engineers had not guaranteed 100% the pressurization of the cabin would work. So off we pile to another plane about 6 gates along. (At this point I began to worry about my connecting flight in Vegas… and the fact that I may miss it).

The pilot, bless his conscientious ass, rejected that plane too – so we were stuck there. But they booked me onto another connecting flight from Vegas so by the time I got there it would be ok.. I settle down with my laptop, book, ipod and large coffee to begin the wait.

15 mins later my name gets read out over the PA and I’m told they’ve got me a seat on a plane that goes direct, and it’s leaving NOW so I have to run to another terminal (read: 1 kilometre away). I run like hell.

Following me is a tall dark European lad who ends up sitting next to me on the plane. He’s french and highly irritating. HIGHLY irritating. I of course, had had bugger all sleep and am intolerant at the best of times let alone sleep deprived, and though I tried to concentrate on his sexy French accent – his bad breath and moronic behaviour won out and I decided to hate him.

This was compounded by the fact that when i showed him a song on my ipod he took this to mean he could listen to it for the rest of the journey..! And when I gently tried to prise it off him he said “Ohh, but ‘etty – mai eye-pod battery is, ah, stopped – Eye will listen to yourrs, oui?” I said “Non.” A very awkward argument ensued.. he didn’t get the ipod.

The next item of mine he was after was this laptop – I was playing tetris and he said “Ah, that is mai favourite game, I will play? Oui?” – again. “Non” was my firm answer.. and I just counted down the hours til I was rid of him. The stewardess, Betty Lou, didn’t help when she fed him an entire bottle of red wine and kept making jokes about us “getting up to no good” when she closed the curtain across our seats.

Once at Chicago O’Hare Airport I had a funny feeling in my cockles that my bag may not have been alerted to the fact that I was no longer going to Vegas.. and sure enough – it hadn’t. My bag was very happy, boozing, schmoozing and probably getting high in California whilst I was clotheless – cosmetic-less and highly pissed off in Illinois. United promised to Fed Ex it to me – and they did.. the next morn at 7am. Thank God for that.