Also Late, but From O'Hare

July 28, 2009.

It’s 3:45 pm…Chicago time! HaHa! I’m at O’Hare. Do you remember me telling you how much I hate O’Hare? Well I still hate it. Concourse G but Gates every other letter. Why, O’Hare? Why?

I’m sitting at the Chili’s in the airport and there’s a huge table right next to me and I just heard the woman tell the waitress “Oh! We’ve been out of the country for two weeks and it’s like, ‘Oh! A drink with ice!’” I just laughed out loud. You know the kind where it’s just basically a sharp breath forced through the nose and someone might mistake it for a bit of a cough or sneeze.

I ordered a coke. I couldn’t wait till Steak n’ Shake tonight. It’d keep me up all night and my jet lag would be unbearable. And I got a basket of nachos with ranch and salsa. And I’ll pay with dollars. Excuse me, Dollar$. But these chips are way too salty. And there are way too many.

So 3 hours and 15 minutes.

But! I will say this about security coming INto O’Here as opposed to going OUTof O’Hare. The guy standing behind the carry on scanner belt thing talked guitars with me. He plays the bass too. Reminds you that sometime people don’t lose their souls when they get a job.

I just thought about how nice the waitress was to me and the huge table who’s back in the country after two weeks and oh yeeeaaaah…Tips! It reminds me of something Lydia used to say: “I love being served.” To which I replied, “Unless it’s in a dance off, in which case, I like to do the serving.”

Oh yeah. Tax. Forgot about that too.

So I pulled out the coin purse that Sheena gave me over a year ago. It’s held my American monies for 7 months. It really does smell a certain way. It smelled very strongly of long, green, skinny paper. With little 1's written in the corners. One dollar bills. And a fist full of coins that will probably piss the waitress off. 3 dollars worth of quarters, nickels, dimes, and pennies in the form of 26 coins. Quarters instead of 20 cent pieces. No funky two pence pieces. There are 50 cent pieces around but not like the 50p or 50 centime piece.

And the silly weirdness of it all hits me. I poured all the American money I have on me onto the table and counted it out one coin at a time. With a weird and satisfied grin on my face. I am weird and satisfied.

And the waitress picked up the 26 coins and 6 one dollar bills and calls back, “Sending me to Las Vegas?!” For a second I had no clue what she was talking about and then I heard all those coins clink into her cash belt.

Haha. I told you. American waiters Hate that stuff. I can’t hide how much that pleased me.