Not only was our day in Chicago not up to expectations, it was long. I had gotten up at five in the morning on Saturday to hit the road, and didn't get to bed until four-thirty early Sunday. Even with my short nap, it still came out to being awake for close to twenty-four hours, and that will make anyone a bit surly. And since I am always surly anyway, it made me extra surly.
We got back to the hotel at about four in the morning and flopped on the couch (I got us a suite on Hotwire for $39 a night, woo-hoo!) to watch some television. We were exhausted and after the much needed wind-down time, I'm guessing that both of us fell asleep within five minutes of going to bed. I was hoping to sleep until at least noon, but my bed had other ideas. I woke up at nine-thirty, as uncomfortable as you please. Due to my poor fitness level I was sore from walking and driving, and the beds in this hotel were not my friends. My bones were being realigned for me as I slept.
Now, I like a firm mattress as much as anybody. I probably like them more than anybody. When we first arrived, I jumped up and down on both beds (because I'm a hillbilly) and was delighted to find they were both like padded plywood. When I took my nap, I woke up surly (because that is how I wake up) and refreshed. Yay! Refreshing. But I took the nap on my back. When I go for a full night's sleep, I sleep on my face. And plywood beds are not friends to the face sleeper.
So I wake up on my face and glower at the clock when it says nine-thirty. Great, I'm awake, now what? I considered throwing pillows at LCG until he woke up, but that would have accomplished nothing. I would have gotten a groggy, "Stop it," and then he would have fallen right back to sleep, so I saved myself the effort. I decided to go to the record store. I got out the phone book and checked out how many stores were in my vicinity. There were enough to make it worth my while!
But then I realized that even though I was awake, I was too tired to actually do anything. And then it also occurred to me that the kind of record shop I like isn't going to be open at nine-thirty on a Sunday morning. So I plotted the route to the venue, which took all of ten minutes, if that. Great. I hadn't brought a book because I didn't think I would need one, so I was stuck. I went back to bed and glowered until about eleven when I finally fell back to sleep.
When I woke up at about one-thirty, it was a brand spanking new day. The Iron Maiden show that we had been anticipating for months was a mere five hours away, and I lost my mind. My stomach knotted up with the giddy thrill of it all and I started giggling. You know how at rock concerts they play songs between bands? Well, at arena shows a big favorite to play is Won't Get Fooled Again. During Roger Daltrey's mid-song scream, the sound guy cranks the volume and that causes the crowd to get more excited. My internal Roger Daltrey scream was off the charts as I tried to figure out what to wear.
Snakeskin pants? Check. But which black t-shirt do I choose? I had brought along four so I would have a wide selection on the day of show. I went with the Metal Sludge shirt. And what to do about the hair? I had forgotten a comb, so it wasn't a good idea to wash it. It had gotten all curly from the humidity and the sleeping on it, so I just stuffed it all into a ponytail and was ready to go. I liked the ponytail from a comfort standpoint, but I kind of wanted my hair loose and free so I could do the Bruce Dickinson head toss from the Run To The Hills video when they played Run To The Hills, but since I didn't have a comb, that was not an option.
The only question that remained was: do I wear the denim vest? I had actually purchased a denim vest so I could dress just like Bruce Dickinson, but I didn't know if I could bring myself to wear it. It was in the backseat of the rental car though, so I didn't have to worry about it right away.
By three o'clock, I was hungry and ready to go and hopping up and down. I had ants in the pants and needed to leave! We decided to head toward the venue and eat somewhere along the way. We were staying in the western suburbs and were a straight shot to the venue, which is in the southwestern suburbs. At least, according to the route I had planned from looking at crappy phone book maps it was a straight shot. We were also leaving early just in case my directions were off.
We listened to Iron Maiden for the entire drive (which I believe was close to an hour) and that did not decrease my fidgety activity in the least. I kept on giggling and doing Bruce Dickinson impersonations and just generally acting like a jackass. I don't think LCG noticed though, because he was also doing Bruce Dickinson impersonations and acting like a jackass. Every now and then, I would just scream like Beavis-as-Cornholio.
Me: "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
LCG: (calm as you please) "What?"
Me: "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"
LCG: (still calm) "Anything wrong?"
Me: "I......have.....ants.......in......the.......pants!!!!"
LCG: (back into his Bruce Dickinson impersonation, fist clenched) "Run toooooo the hilllllllls!"
Me: (uncontrolled giggling)
So our drive was oh-so-jolly, and happy day, my route was correct! We located the venue by four-thirty, and were then able to wander Tinley Park, Illinois looking for some food. We drove past the hotel we had been considering using, because the tickets were mailed in an envelope advertising that particular hotel. It's maybe a mile from the venue, and would have been so convenient. I wailed with remorse when I saw the tour bus parked in the lot. "I could have run into Bruce Dickinson at the ice machine!" (Pronounced ma-sheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen. My ants in the pants uproar was out of control by then.)
We drove past a Family Restaurant, and it was that 70s-style faux-alpine look that was so popular for steakhouses at one point in time. Normally I am opposed to family restaurants, but we approved of the changeable sign with the vinyl letters. It said both God Bless America and Seniors Menu. Could be fun. We opted not to go there and look around some more. As we drove toward the quaint portion of Tinley Park, we saw a longhaired dude walking down the street beaming and wearing a Ted Nugent shirt. We were quite certain that he was also on his way to Iron Maiden.
After cruising the quaint sector (You know, fake small town main street, where you expect to see trolleys go by as you listen to the local brass band at the park's gazebo.) I said, "Let's just go to the Family Restaurant." "Okay." And it was so bitchen' I can't even stand it. We got out of the car and as we did, someone driving by was blaring Motörhead. We knew where they were going! (The bill was Motörhead, Dio, and Iron Maiden.) I started hopping up and down with ants in the pants and then, feeling inspired, dug the denim vest out of the backseat and put it on and LCG started giggling.
Me: "Well?"
LCG: (giggling uncontrollably) "You...have...to...wear...that."
Me: "Do I look dorky?"
LCG: (unconvincingly) "No."
Me: "Seriously! Should I leave it in the car?"
LCG: "You have to wear it! It's adorable!"
Well, it's adorable on Bruce Dickinson too, so I felt right in style. We headed across the parking lot, and when we walked in there was an old scale advertising Your Wate And Fate, and there was a really cheesy claw machine with lame prizes. We were delighted.
The guy who seated us had a toothpick in his mouth and a shirt that was unbuttoned too far. There were a ton of smelly Greek selections on the menu, and I was thrilled because I had been craving feta cheese and raw onions! (I later heard a couple of employees speaking Greek, which probably explains the delicious menu.)
Only problem was, my stomach was already full of butterflies! There wasn't much room for my delightfully smelly meal, so I sat there fidgeting and squeaking and trying to eat and I finally snapped and had to call someone, so I dialed up Aaaahj.
Guy on other end of the phone: "Hello?"
Me: "May I speak to Aaaahj please?" (For reasons unknown to me, I am always extremely polite when I call his house. I'm either going to get Aaaahj or his crazy roommate, who is not exactly Mr. Manners, so I don't know why I put forth the effort.)
Aaaahj: "This is."
Me: (barely contained glee) "Aaaahj! I'm in Illinois wearing a denim vest!"
Aaaahj: "I take it you're on the way to the show."
Me: (giggling) "I am indeed! Right now I am at this totally cool family restaurant. Hey! Three guys with long hair just sat down a couple of booths away!"
Aaaahj: "Wonder where they're going."
Me: (giggling)
After some more giggling we wished each other a good night and got off the phone. I resumed fidgeting. LCG and I discussed the fact that we probably loved the restaurant because we are hillbillies, and it's the slightly tacky places that make us the happiest. We loved it so much that the next time we go to Chicago for a show, we are going to stay at the hotel next door to the theater (while I hope that I run into Bruce Dickinson at the ice machine) and eat at that very cool restaurant many times. And then we set off for the show.
In the next installment, I will tell you about the highly anticipated and truly fabulous Iron Maiden concert. In the meantime, go eat at the Olympic Star Restaurant in Tinley Park, Illinois. It's open twenty-four hours.