Sunday's Adventure, Part II

I guess I should finish telling this before we pass the two-week anniversary!

When we were last in the story, Jason had just disappeared into the terminal with his papers, his two bags, and without his gate number information or his Warcraft CD. First thing on my list was parking the car. This shouldn't have been hard, except I kept passing a million Economy Parking signs, finally caught a glimpse of the words Short-Term Parking, only to realize it applied to that exit I had just passed. However, I'd seen that short-term was in Lot D. So I kept on passing economy lots labeled B and C. But E and F were clearly too far, so I pulled into E and discovered the only turn-around option was a U-turn right in front of the gate. Oops. Oh well, that bus was plenty far behind me.

Only thing to try was going back round to the O'Hare entrance and through the terminal drop-offs in the hope of snagging that obscure sign. Since this time I wasn't looking for Terminal 1 and Gate B, the right signs did show up and so did the parking garage. Only had to back up once from starting down a row the wrong way. Got the car parked. Whew. Challenge number 1 was overcome.

Challenge number 2 was finding out if Jason was on his flight, but this was soon moved back to #3 as the problem of finding and getting to his terminal emerged. First I had to take an elevator down to the main floor. Then I took a moving belt and an escalator, only to find that the new floor didn't look right. Went back down and found that the O'Hare airport was sorry for the inconvenience, but the escalator was out of order and the elevator the only means of getting up to Terminal 1, and the elevator took two minutes to get there. And there I was again, back on the floor that didn't look right (what a waste of time). This time I got smart and took the escalator up to Checkin. Jason's flight had already disappeared from the listings. So I had a great time trying to rasp enough voice out to talk to three different people, finally getting to a flight agent, who finally got some help to look up the right page and tell me that YES! Jason was on his flight! and why was I so worried about him?! he was just fine! etc. Well, I was glad to hear that, almost didn't quite believe it.

I called back home to tell Daddy that Jason was on his way and find out what to do with the tire. Somehow I got the address noted despite all the terminal noise, and found the Sears Auto Repair despite somehow numerically skipping some 20 exits. They couldn't fix the first tire. The leak was so big you could hear air hissing out of it from a distance. So we lugged the extra tire out to put on the old rim, once again out of that well-buried under-trunk compartment.

At last I was back on the road, anticipating the exit for I-90/94 only once. The traffic was exciting but not excessive, and the Chicago Skyway was a fun drive. The only problem is that the signmakers keep changing terms on you. First they talk about I-90/94, then about the Expressway, then Local 94, then the Skyway, forgetting to mention what happened to 90. Not that I made any stupid exit calls, but it's nicer to positively know you're on the right interstate before you're halfway to the next one.

I hadn't thought too much about toll money, but came up with enough cash and coins without making anybody wait too long while I dug around for it.

The rest of the trip was just a breeze... 65 South, 30 East, 15 South. When it started misting I discovered I'd forgotten where the windshield wipers were, but it only took me trying the lights, the brights, the cruise control and a couple other things before - bingo! there they were!

By the way, snack mix is a great thing for the driver to have along on car trips. Drains very little brainpower and muscle coordination from the main task to reach into a Ziploc bag for a handful of peanuts, raisins, and chocolate chips (no little seedy bits to decorate the car), not to mention has a good energy yield. That was most of my lunch and supper.

Oh yes, I did spend an extra quarter-hour getting lost within five miles of Tysons' house.

All in all, it was a great trip. I even coasted through two days on the gas left. A day or two after I filled the tank back up, the gas price dropped about twenty cents.


The End


(I love happy endings!)