Welcome to WeeklyWilson.com, where author/film critic Connie (Corcoran) Wilson avoids totally losing her marbles in semi-retirement by writing about film (see the Chicago Film Festival reviews and SXSW), politics and books----her own books and those of other people. You'll also find her diverging frequently to share humorous (or not-so-humorous) anecdotes and concerns. Try it! You'll like it!

Category: travel Page 15 of 20

Chicago: A Typical Day in the City, September 7, 2011

I signed myself up for a class at the “Tribune” building on Facebook. The class began at 9:00 A.M. , so I rode the bus to the 400 block of North Michigan Avenue and entered the impressive-looking old stone building.

The building has inscriptions on the walls that reflect the laws as they pertain to freedom of speech and freedom of the press.   I was met at the door by a young girl who directed me to go “down the hallway and turn left and you’ll see a Welcome sign.” Unfortunately, she failed to mention the room number and that I had to take an elevator to the basement, as well. Therefore, I found myself standing in front of a nice sign on an easel with absolutely no idea of where to go next.

At that point a very nice gentleman in a suit and tie took it upon himself to attempt to guide me to the correct room, which had never been mentioned in any literature. We went back to the lobby, but the welcome girl was gone. We asked at the desk and that yielded little, so he took me to the 7th floor (wrong) and, again, back to the lobby. There, we learned that I would have to take the elevator to the basement, which had never been mentioned in any directions. (My guide suggested I write this down on the “appraisal” form following the class.)

The class went about as I had anticipated and we were released to “the real world”  about noon. I knew  the statue of Marilyn Monroe was right next door, so I took the pictures you see below of the Marilyn statue that is all the rage in Chicago this summer season (replacing the giant eyeball that held that distinction last year.)

After enjoying the Marilyn phenomenon—complete with tourists lined up to pose under the giant statue—I caught a bus to travel the rest of the way down the Miracle Mile to the 900 block (or so) where Water Tower Place is located. I had thought I might be able to walk it (from the 400 block) but thought better of it now that I had paraphernalia from my morning class.  As I got off the bus, I began walking in the wrong direction, as it turned out. Nothing looked familiar and I was standing on a street corner waiting for the light to change when I noticed there was a policeman next to me, so I asked him, “How much farther is Water Tower Place? He laughed and said, “It’s 2 blocks back THAT way.” I turned around and began walking towards my destination, but, as I neared the Hancock Building, I heard the unmistakable sounds of “live” music being played in the courtyard outside the Cheesecake Factory and decided this would make a far better lunch venue than the interior of Water Tower Place.

My waiter, Peter Weaver, was very nice and obligingly posed with the 3D glasses I had found in my coat pocket while walking to the venue. They were left over from a Peter Gabriel concert (in 3D) that was shown at the Icon Theater on Roosevelt at 7:30 p.m. the previous evening. I only know one Peter Gabriel song (“In Your Eyes” from the movie “Say Anything”) but I always liked that one song, so I went. There were many unusual effects for the audience, as during a song called “Red Rain” when the rain appeared to be coming down on the audience and the idea of Peter holding a small mirror and reflecting back the lights on the audience via this hand mirror, which was weird. There was a full orchestra backing his vocals, called the New Blood orchestra, with a very young director named Ben Foster and arrangements for orchestra by John Metcalfe, who came out only to direct Gabriel’s big hit, “In Your Eyes,” which he sang as an encore. (“In your eyes, the light, the heat. …I reach out from the inside…”) Who can forget the iconic scene with John Cusack holding the huge boom box on his shoulder and playing that song for Ione Skye?

I ordered the half sandwich and soup, with salad ($10.95). To be honest. the soup wasn’t that great, but everything else was fine and my waiter was wonderful. I have film of the group playing, but it says it is too large to upload to this site, so you’ll have to imagine them singing various Motown songs, like “My Girl” and “Stand By Me.”

Following my lunch, when I spilled an entire glass of water over the table (not on myself, however, fortunately),the music stopped and I paid my bill and proceeded to Water Tower Place with the sole goal of going to Sephora and maybe to the Coach store. Here you see me with the two girls who work at Orogold, the make-up store just before you enter Sephora on the 5th floor of Water Tower Place. Mor Bare and Nina Angel. Nina is the blonde;  I didn’t believe her that that was her real name, but it is. They were excellent saleswomen and sold me a bionic mask that is going to turn me back into a teenager with use just once a month. Both are from Israel and very pretty.

Unfortunately, the budget of a retired English teacher did not allow me to purchase as many products as I probably need (and want), but I did secure the most important ingredients to lovelier me…or so say Mor and Nina. I asked Nina if I could use her name in my next book. She agreed.

I told the girls, as I left, that I still had to make the obligatory stop at Sephora, as I needed some other things, besides the gooey warm stuff that would save my skin.

Therefore, I walked the 20 feet or so to the entrance of the Sephora store, where I entered saying, “BOIING. I need BOIING.”(Boing, for the uninitiated, is an under-eye concealer that my daughter turned me on to.) My clerk at the Sephora store turned out to be the store manager, Domingo Gonzalez, who has worked for Sephora for 6 years. He helped me find a brush and some night eye cream to replace my empty container and posed, obligingly, with my 3D glasses and the orange I had taken from the “Tribune.”

Now, it was time to travel down the escalator and find the Coach store, where I would buy a new fall purse. This would set me back a fair amount, if you know anything about Coach products! ($228, before tax, …and tax in Chicago is 10% or something outrageous..highest in the country.) Mor and Nina, if you’re reading this, now you know why I had to pass on certain cosmetic items that I’m positive would have helped me immensely. I needed a new purse, so what’s a girl to do?

I checked out all the Coach items and settled on the one that was the last of its kind in the store, and…said clerk Erin Watt…was the one most of the girls in the store have purchased because it has some gold in the “C” logo. [And it’s big. I mean really big!]

Here are the two girls who helped me at Coach, Erin Watt and Kelly Rady (Kelly is the blonde)

 

 

 

 

 

My last stop was within Macy’s, where I bought a pair of earrings on sale for $9 ($10 with tax) and met Katai Fenesk and Daniel Marban. (I had Katie? Katai? write her name down for me, and I confess I cannot tell whether it is Katie or Katai, but both were very nice and they told me the store had recently been remodeled (hence the pictures of the store’s interior). Since it is the old Marshall FIelds, that might not set well with some folks, but the only complaint I have is that the escalator was not working…but at least it was the “down” escalator. (From which I took one of these photos.)

Somehow, I convinced Katie (Katai? Katwi? Katui?) that a photo of the two of them in men’s watches would be so much more interesting if they used the props (i.e. the 3D glasses and the orange.) Surprisingly. they didn’t need much convincing. They seemed to get into the spirit of “a day in Chicago” and here they are with the aforementioned glasses and orange. I apologize to KatieKatai/Katwi/Katui but I can’t tell what comes after “t” and at this point. weren’t we all bored anyway?

 

I’ve been putting captions under all these photos and under this one it said, “Macy’s employees go for World Orange Eating record, but the captions are not appearing. (Go figure).

Here are some shots of the interior of Macy’s. featuring their new remodeling and their broken escalator (which I am standing on to take this photo).

And, last. and certainly least, since it is blurry, is a picture of the interior of the bus (#146) I rode back to Roosevelt Road. One girl had very red hair that was clown-like in its color and consistency. Two others were reading books. One was reading “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.”

The red you see is not a hat, but the actual hair color, layered atop a brunette shade. Very…unusual.

I returned from my adventures at 4:30 and, in preparation for tonight’s Republican debate from Simi Valley, I took a nap. After that, I watched the debate and twittered during it and wrote a piece that you should all go read on Associated Content, which actually pays me for my contributions, unlike THIS blog, which is mine and makes not one farthing.

Tomorrow, back to the IA/IL Quad Cities. I hope you have enjoyed ” a random day in Chicago.”

Checker Cab Limo Making Cross Country Trip

Checker Limo in Chicago.

An uncle and nephew duo driving a Checker cab limo (25 feet, 8 doors) from California to New York visited me in Chicago, where I turned over the “keys to the condo” to the pair, so that they could enjoy Chicago Saturday, Sunday, Monday, leaving on Tuesday for Kalamazoo, Michigan, where the yellow vehicles used to be made.

George, 62, said that this particular car had been built in something like 1959 and that the vehicles were used as cabs in Alaska, where he first saw them. He was smitten with the idea of purchasing one and finally found one at an old car dealer’s in California, where the duo flew to retrieve the massive automobile and begin making a cross-country trek. I think I got into the act, somehow, because I had made the “Ghostly Tales of Route 66” trip along Route 66.

Patrick, me, and a Checker Limo.

At any rate, it was great fun meeting and greeting George and Patrick and their huge and hard-to-park car. It wasn’t too difficult figuring out where to put George and Patrick, but the car was an entirely different matter!

The Kalamazoo, Michigan paper did a story on the pair, since the cars used to be built there. I called the Chicago “Tribune” but they were underwhelmed with the story and photo op. Not me, though. I haven’t had this much excitement since I did the Oscar Mayer WeinerMobile story!

Two nice new friends who, I hope, had a great time in the Windy City.

Checker Limo Makes Cross-Country Trip

Spider Monkey Alert!

A close girlfriend, just returned from a 3 month visit to France, explained how her basic sense of honesty caused her to declare that she did, in fact, have a “food item” in her luggage at customs in Minneapolis. The food item in question was a sealed can of pate someone had given her as a parting gift.

She was ushered into a large room with various peoples who also had “food items” and got to watch surly customs agents launching various fruits and vegetables at bins along the wall for hours. Add to that the delights of experiencing a drug-sniffing dog! After the first “food room,” there was (apparently) a second food room and, well, the connecting flight didn’t allow for hours spent watching surly customs inspectors launch miscellaneous fruits at garbage bins.

When it finally came time for her to “declare” the precise food item she had, the customs agent just grunted and passed her on through…too late to make a connecting flight to Des Moines, I think.

Reminds me of the time we were asked, when re-entering the country from Cancun, if we had had any contact with “livestock” and I truthfully piped up, “What about the spider monkeys that climbed all over us at Coba?”  Despite my husband’s best attempts to muzzle me, much merriment ensued. These are the sorts of adventures I relate in “Laughing through Life” because, really, you have to laugh or else you’d cry.

Silver Feather Award (IWPA)Joins E-Lit Awards

On May 21 at the Union Club, the Chicago branch of  the Illinois Women’s Press Association awarded its Silver Feather awards for writing excellence to several of Connie’s projects, including both of her most recent books, It Came from the ’70s: From The Godfather to Apocalypse Now and Hellfire & Damnation.  Both books have already scored (first-ever) E-Lit awards for their Kindle versions ($8.50 and $2.99, respectively, on Amazon and Barnes & Noble). Hellfire & Damnation, which is organized around Dante’s Inferno and its 9 Circles of Hell, also placed 7th (of 46 nominees) on the Preliminary Stoker Ballot. (Stephen King placed 10th on that ballot) from the HWA (Horror Writers’ Association. A sneak preview of one of the stories from the sequel to follow went up (for 99 cents) as a Kindle short story (6,500 words) on May 17th, entitled “The Bureau.”

A third book Ghostly Tales of Route 66 in Kindle format also was named a Gold Medal winner in the E-Lit awards in the travel category earlier this year. ($9.50 on Amazon and Barnes & Noble). It has only recently been made available in other than print format, although the Kindle format contains several new stories never before published, but has no pictures as the print versions do.

Other categories awarded Silver Feather awards for excellence in writing by the IWPA were:

     Photo on the Web for “The Tall Ships in Chicago at Navy Pier” on www.WeeklyWilson website.

     Writing for the Web:  “Obama in Iowa for Health Care Initiatie:  Tea Partiers Rally Outside Iowa City Fieldhouse.”

     Writing for the Web, Column or Commentary:  “Opinion:  Phil Hare Is Better Choice than Bobby Schilling in Illinois’ 17th District Race,” Yahoo! News.

     Videos for the Website, Special Interest Site:  Hellfire & Damnation, Quad Cities’ Learning, dba Quad City Press

     Writing for the Web, Feature Article:  “What Did General Stanley McChrystal Really Say in the ‘Rolling Stone’ Article that Got Him Fired?”, Yahoo Contributor Network

     Website Development, Special Interest Sites:  www.ConnieCWilson.com, Quad Cities’ Learning, Inc.

     Blogs, Webcontent, Special Interest Sites, “Weekly Wilson:  Chicago Film Festival:  Encounters of the Famous Kind,” WeeklyWilson website.

          Connie signed copies of her newest book, It Came from the ’70s: From The Godfather to Apocalypse Now at the BEA (Book Expo America) on Wednesday, May 25 from 2 to 3 p.m. and she will be selling and signing copies of all of her books at Printers’ Row on Saturday, June 5 and Sunday, June 6, from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.

   If you miss her there, try the RME (River Music Experience) on July 30th in Davenport, Iowa, during the Bix Road Race weekend which coincides with the RAGBRAI (Register’s Annual Great Bike Race Across Iowa) race finale. She will also be heading out for appearances at an assortment of Family Video stores with the movie book and delivering a lecture at the Moline Club in the near future. (Stay tuned for further developments.)

New York City BEA (Book Expo America) and BlogWorld

I’ve just returned from nearly a week in New York City where I attended the Book Exposition that is the largest in the world and signed copies of “It Came from the ’70s: From The Godfather to Apocalypse Now” from 2 to 3 p.m. on Wednesday, May 25th at the HWA (Horror Writers’ Association) table.

The same day as the signing, I attended the Adult breakfast where Mindy Kahl MC-ed and Diane Keaton was the Celebrity author. The author of “Middlesex” and Charlaine Harris, who created Sookie Stackhouse (of the “True Love” television series) also spoke.

New York Times Best-Selling Author Jonathan Maberry signed before me at the HWA booth, and there was much to admire and browse. No plays this year, but I also attended BlogWorld and a Book Bloggers’ Conference at which Otis from Goodreads was present. A workshop on “Monetizing Your Blog” will help me be a better presented on June 25th during “Blogging for Bucks” at the Midwest Writers’ Center conference.  No wild parties or late nights, but many early mornings and presentations during my week in the Big Apple.

On the way out, I sat next to the parents of a Chicago Sun Times reporter being honored with the Pulitzer Prize for his article on Chicago’s “59 Hours of Violence.” How cool is that? On the way back, I sat next to the new anchorwoman in Sioux City, Iowa and a woman who takes formal portraits of Arabian horses.

Cancun, Mexico: April 11, 2011

Pool at Royal Sands.

Cancun, Mexico, April 11, 2011, Royal Sands Resort – As we continue our vacation (for about the 18th year or so, the pool once again beckoned.

The pictures tell the story. Today was the (complimentary) taco party, and those in our party of 12 are making their plans; Xelha for the big girls on Tuesday; massage for 3 of us on Wednesday; golf for the men on Thursday; breakfast with Richard (who sold us our time shares) on Friday.

The pictures below tell the story.

Emmie & Stacey.

Craig in pool.

Ava Wilson, age 2 years, 3 months, April 11, 2011.

Fun times in the sun in Cancun for Olivia and Ava.

Stacey loses it with the XelHa Monster.

Emmie & Stacey pose with some poor schmuck in a really hot suit.

Cancun, Sunday, April 10: First Full Day

Ava enjoys the pool at the Royal Sands in Cancun, Mexico, on April 10, 2011.

We’re here in Cancun, our first full day.

The pools and beaches are much less crowded than normal during “spring break” but this could be because “spring break” is over. Or, it could be that people are not traveling to Mexico, due to all the bad publicity. Or it could be because they’ve jacked the price(s) up on things like a massage (formerly $75, now, for three of us $297. (Yikes!). I got him to throw in a pass to the exercise/spa/hot tub room ($50 for the week) and one of our party is responsible for 1/3 of that amount. So, if you deduct the $50, I guess the expense (which is a birthday gift to daughter-in-law Jessica) is the same as last year’s amount, but everything seems more expensive.

Stacey and Scott poolside in Cancun at the Royal Sands on April 10, 2011.

We have two units in play: one is our “normal” 1st floor digs, with the 23-year-old daughter (Stacey) and her friend Emmie Futrell in residence in the second bedroom with its own bathroom. I love my 2-year-old granddaughters, but it is nice that the people in this unit actually sleep slightly later.

Two-year-old Elise Wilson enjoys the water in the baby pool at the Royal Sands.

Today was the “Welcome Party,” which means free drinks (rum and cokes). I am so over the hoopla of throwing water balloons at one another and refuse to take part, as I have done for the past 10 years or so. The daughter and her father gamely took part, but the winner…believe it or not…was Elise, age 2, who somehow ended up with the only intact water balloon and “won” a bag from the establishment, which is handy for taking things to the beach. I thought ahead and had the spouse pack the “Chicago” bag I bought at the airport last year on our way here. It makes a perfect beach bag, and he said it wasn’t too difficult to get in on the bottom of his luggage.

Just off the lobby, this is the view from the Royal Sands.

The trip here was uneventful. We even had an empty seat between us in the set of 3 on American Airlines, which is unusual. Is this, too, a sign of the economic times?

 

There was a woman sitting in my aisle seat when we first reached our row, and she seemed very put out to be asked to take her own seat, which turned out to be in the middle. She spent most of her time prior to take-off sulking and turned on her laptop computer and began watching some cartoon or movie that featured dogs barking loudly. Since she had not brought headphones, it appeared that I would have to listen to her dog cartoon for the entire trip, but I was intent on ignoring her obvious pique at being asked to sit in her own assigned seat.

Heaven, thy name is Cancun's beach.

At that point, she summoned the stewardess and began some long involved tale about her husband’s pulled hamstring muscle and how he HAD to be sitting on an aisle. This was odd, because he was never seated on the aisle. He was seated against the exterior of the plane and SHE was seated on the aisle, the seat that was mine, which she really did not want to give up.

April 10, 2011 in Cancun, Mexico (Royal Sands Resort).

The stewardess kindly offered them places behind us so that her husband could have an aisle seat…, which was obviously not the issue, despite the woman’s clever oh-so-sweet explanations to the stewardess.

After their first move, next thing I heard was that they were moving AGAIN.

The first part of the trip was extremely bumpy. Even the stewardesses were told not to get out of their seats. There were storm systems and they buffeted us until we cleared Memphis, which did not seem like that long a time. One small child on the right side of the plane (age approximately 3) knew and shouted only 1 word for the entire trip. “NO!” There was a baby approximately six months old in that aisle, as well. The baby cried upon take-off, but was pretty well behaved, overall.

We arrived at our “home away from home” fairly early (noon) and learned that the shuttle prices from the airport have escalated from $12 per person to $16 per person. You must walk through the airport and outside near the front entrance of the airport to book a shuttle at the information desk. You must not be led astray by the many Time Share sales people standing there ready to pull you aside and book you into a Time Share “pitch.” As owners of 2 time-shares since 1995 or so, with a history of visiting for 3 years before buying (Fiesta Americana Condessa for 2 years and 1 year renting at the Royal Mayan), we know the drill.

 

This year, our time-share, the Royal Sands, has improved many things. The stove and microwave in our kitchen are new. All villas have wireless. New 32” flat screens have been installed in 3 places inside the units (2 bedrooms and the living room area).

We visited the store within the resort immediately and bought the basics. The “basics” this year cost $300 U.S. dollars. This seemed high, but we were expecting all 10 other members of the family fest to arrive at our unit and expect snacks and drinks. It’s always nice to be warmly greeted with hospitality.  We will be here for 2 weeks, so we will definitely use the eggs, bread, margarine, pop, etc.

After the purchase of the groceries, the husband said, “If I have even one beer, I think I’ll fall asleep.” We had to get up at 5 a.m. in order to make our 8 a.m. flight.

As soon as the groceries (pushed to our first floor unit in borrowed grocery carts) were put away, my husband announced that he wanted to go sit outside by the pool. He had already unpacked his clothes. I had not, so I stayed in the room and unpacked my suitcase. At some point, I decided to just lie down for a few minutes.
An hour later when my daughter and her friend arrived from Nashville, I heard discussions about whether to wake me up. I immediately joined the group.

Soon, the 2 family groups with the young children arrived and now the party is in full swing. More on the rest of the week (today is Sunday), as it progresses.

One bit of good news: “Ricardo” (i.e., Richard), the one continuing presence in our close to 20 years of visiting Cancun, has returned to the Royal Resorts fold and we will see him for either lunch or breakfast on Thursday. Today was the Welcome Party. Tomorrow is the traditional Taco Party.

We spent the night watching “The Celebrity Apprentice” on TV from a Florida station. Gary Busey is obviously nuts. Very entertaining, but obviously a liability for the Men’s Team. Mark McGrath was very articulate and got kicked off. I think Donald Trump is doing all this “I’m running for President stuff” to get publicity for his show, among other pursuits.

 

Viva, Cancun!

Toyota Tundra Tears A New One in Prius, Tank-side

Terrible Toyota Tundra

I decided to post this account of my car accident of March 31, 2011, to warn other drivers who might not want to have their small car crushed by a giant silver behemoth of a truck, simply because they are driving up Kennedy Drive, on their way to Best Buy to purchase 3 flash drives. Not in any particular rush. Just 12 blocks or so away from home.

For those who live in the Illinois Quad Cities, I want to warn you of this “most dangerous” intersection…(or one of the most dangerous)…in the city. I mean, of course, 30th Avenue and Kennedy Drive, right where the Walgreen store sits. I was driving south toward the Jewel store on Kennedy Drive. I came to the intersection mentioned above and noticed that there were several cars in the left turn lane (which would be a turn to head your car toward Silvis, something I did every morning for 17 and ½ years, so I know that turn well).

I was paying attention. I was only driving 30 mph. You have to pay attention in the East Moline to Moline area, or you will be picked up for speeding. I try to always run radar. The border between Moline/East Moline on 30th Avenue as you drive towards Wilson Junior High School is particularly problematical.

There is a hill on 30th Avenue, or perhaps it is more accurate to call it a dip. As your car heads towards Moline (from East Moline) the speed limit drops from 35 mph in East Moline to 30 mph in Moline, with almost no marking. And this happens at the bottom of a hill. So, the police thoughtfully park their vehicles on a side street, wait for you to reach the bottom of the hill and (probably) move above 30 mph, so that they can give you a ticket for speeding.

At the bottom of said hill you are usually  “fair game” to be picked up for speeding, since you may have inadvertently picked up speed as you coasted down the hill (it’s called gravity), and you are entering Moline’s 5 miles per hour slower speed limit, although you have not changed roads or directions. If this seems unfair to you, join the club. In order to be in strict compliance with the change in driving speed between Moline and East Moline, you’ll have to be applying your brake as you coast down the hill. Otherwise, you’ll be facing the music in court. Be aware. Be wary. You could try defying gravity, but I doubt if you’ll have much luck with this approach.

But I was not ON 30th Avenue this day.

I was merely diving slowly (I only go 30 mph now everywhere to avoid speed traps like the one on 30th Avenue mentioned above) up Kennedy Drive towards the Jewel store in Kennedy Square (and on past it to Best Buy out near Southpark Mall.)

As I approached the red light at the intersection of 30th Avenue and Kennedy Drive, heading towards Kennedy Square (i.e., southbound) I stayed on the right side next to the right curb, since it was apparent that the left-turning cars would hold up traffic that merely wanted to go straight down Kennedy. Here comes the rub.
When you go THROUGH the intersection, still heading south towards Kennedy Square, the two-lane road often has cars parked along the right side curb. Not always, but often. This day, I considered myself lucky. No cars parked on the right. Clear sailing in the “right” lane, (which is not really a lane, but will ultimately narrow so that you will have to “merge” into the left lane.)

As I cleared the intersection, I noticed in my rear view mirror that a very large silver truck was tailgating me. The driver was practically in my back seat. He seemed to be going very fast, to me (remember: I’m the one who only drives 30 mph for the reasons mentioned above), but he may simply have been going 35 mph, the speed limit in East Moline (but NOT in Moline).

I glanced in my rear view mirror and commented, to myself, that I was glad I could continue to hug the right hand side curb and didn’t have to “merge” right away, because the person driving the truck was apparently in a much bigger hurry than me and very territorial about being first with a bullet. He was obviously an “Alpha Male” type who must remain in front of all other drivers at all times. Fine by me, I thought. You just go ahead and zip right on past me! I’ll just stay over here on the right, hugging this curb, until you take your giant silver whomper-stomper of a vehicle and head on down the road. Picture me saying, “Dum, dum, de dum”at that point. I also knew this intersection was a “ bad” one because my mother-in-law once had a car accident there when picking up my daughter from her piano lesson, so, no fool I, I would just hug that curb and let old Mr. Silverback or Silver Truck have the whole road for his giant ugly vehicle. No hurry on MY part to “merge.”
Unfortunately, just as I consciously willed this ill-mannered tailgating creep to zoom on down Kennedy Drive and leave me there, a curb-hugger, he hit me.

I heard a grinding, scraping, crushing sound, and my car shuddered violently. It nearly went out of control.  If this idiot pushed me into the oncoming northbound traffic (i.e., the cars coming from Kennedy Square and heading north up Kennedy Drive), I would be hit broadside. I was fighting to control the car and thinking, “This mouth-breathing Neanderthal just HIT me!”

I searched the right-hand side of the road, frantically looking for a place I could pull over and get my car (and me) out of harm’s way. Luckily, the vacant lot and not-very-heavily traveled gravel road at 35th Avenue and 2nd Street was immediately ahead on my right. I actually had the presence of mind to signal for a right turn before pulling over and stopping my car. I had already made a note of the license plate of the Silver Toyota truck, as I wondered if he would stop at all, since he had just rear-ended a small car driving ahead of him in traffic, a car he should not have been that close to in the first place.

Mr. Neanderthal jumped down from his silver truck and was waving his arms and screaming. Why was he screaming? Beats the hell out of me! HE had just creamed my vehicle, knocking it so violently that I almost was pushed into the ongoing traffic lane, and now HE was yelling at ME. What’s wrong with this picture?

I glanced quickly at the back wheel well area of my green Prius (“the grasshopper”) and saw that parts of it were sticking out at 90 degree angles from the rest of my car. (Ooooo. That can’t be good, I thought.) One thought I had was this, “I wonder if I can drive this car after he hit me and crushed the wheel well area? It might be that the piece that is totally turn off my vehicle will puncture the tire or something.” I said nothing to the wildly gesticulating elderly male driver so out-of-control in front of me. He had obviously hit me. It was too late for him to UN-hit me, so now we simply must deal with the consequences in an adult manner. Or so I thought. That only works if both of you are capable of behaving in an adult manner. I have learned recently that many MANY adults are arrested at a maturity level of a twelve-year-old. In fact, when I visited the State Farm insurance agency, the young girl helping me file the claim said, after she heard how awful the elderly drive had been, “Yeah. The old ones are worse than the younger kids, usually.” Food for thought. Cranky old person? A stereotype, but one this guy certainly fit. And, keep in mind…THIS guy’s vehicle was not hurt AT ALL. The policeman wrote down ZERO dollars damage to his truck, so why was HE screaming at ME? Seems rather immature and unfriendly and, also, potentially designed to distract attention from the very real fact that he had just rear-ended the vehicle of a woman who was even older than he was old, but was still capable of trying to act like a civilized human being, which, I have learned, to my chagrin, many Control Freak types are not. Get in their way and they freak out.

Mr. Neanderthal was now berating me. (Seems odd, but there you have it….) He was being totally uncivil. I immediately gave him my name. I asked him what his name was.

“I’m not giving you my name, you smart ass.”

Well, this was going well, wasn’t it?  I ask the man who has just ruined my car…(and damn near caused me serious bodily injury) for his NAME at the scene of an accident he has caused and he refuses to give it to me!

I tried a different tack. “I think we should exchange insurance information.” I went to my car to get mine out of the glove box.

Mr. Neanderthal says, “I ain’t giving you no insurance information. I’ll only give it to the po-lice.” (He pronounced police as 2 syllables.)

Since I frequently am in Chicago, a second home, and the Chicago police do NOT want to be bothered by people who are merely randomly running their vehicles into one another UNLESS one of them is hurt (neither of us was, fortunately), I mentioned this fact. “I’m not sure the police want to be called, unless there is personal injury, and we’re both okay.”

Wow! Wrong thing to say! And, I admit, more the way it works in the Big City than in East Moline, Illinois.
”You shut up, you smart ass.”

I think Mr. Neanderthal then also called me a liar or some other uncomplimentary thing for having shared this bit of Big City information about police responses to accidents in big cities which, admittedly, may not apply in what my friend D.J. refers to as “Poopyville.” (D.J. means no harm, and, himself lives in Las Vegas, so people who live in glass houses shouldn’t put down wholesome communities that are in the middle of nowhere, but D.J.said it, not me.)

Since I have endured quite a bit of verbal abuse online recently, which would include the Tea Party members who didn’t like the piece I did praising Eisenhower (go figure) and the ex-collaborator who has been trolling some really questionable sites and lying his ass off to the point that legal action will be taken, and now Mr. Neanderthal, who was being a complete jerk. Mr. Neanderthal didn’t need to admit guilt, but it would have been nice to have heard him say something human or compassionate like, “Gee, this is too bad.”

But no. Mr. Neanderthal, whose large silver truck had NO damage [but did have a number of colorful paint chips on his undented bumper] (makes you wonder how many other cars he has hit with his large ramming speed vehicle?) was going to simply verbally abuse me, waving his arms about and acting like a total child and complete jerk. In fact, I think there are even some rules about HAVING to give your name, if asked, at the scene of an accident, which someone closer to his size should remind him about. But this idiot wasn’t going to provide his name when politely asked.

At no time did I verbally abuse this person or call him names, or accuse him at that time of what he had done (i.e., ram into me while following too closely and driving too fast) but, hey! I could have said, “Look, you jerk! Look at the damage you just did to my vehicle! What-the-hell were you thinking, driving up behind me that fast?” But I did not say any of these things to the rude, unpleasant, 64-year-old creep who rear-ended me and then acted put out at ME! I knew he was working on some story that would make this (somehow) be MY fault. He was the type. I could just hear him now. And I could also imagine that, if I made any effort to speak with him further, Mr. Neanderthal might actually become violent.
True, it was only 3:30 in the afternoon. But I was a woman, driving alone, and an old fart with gray hair was waving his hands in the air in a threatening manner. Perhaps it was time to retreat to my vehicle and call for back up. Which I did.
Back up, in this instance, meant my retired husband, napping at home.

I got in my dented Prius, locked the doors, got out my phone, and dialed my husband, who was approximately 13 blocks away, asleep. He, in turn, called the police. I gave the spouse directions to my location just up the street and, within 5 minutes, the cavalry rode to the rescue.

For one thing, I needed someone with some mechanical aptitude to take a look at my wheel well and tell me if I could drive away from this fender bender.

For another, I might need someone to clock Fart Man if he took a swing at me.

For a third, men don’t really like to listen to “the little woman” and it would be far better if I had a man present, backing me up and telling this guy to shut up. I have known this since the days I spearheaded (some would say master-minded, but, with all the collective bargaining rights in the entire state of Wisconsin going under, perhaps masterminding something that only lasts for 31 years isn’t anything to brag about) collective bargaining rights in Silvis, Illinois. That would be the SEA efforts to gain collective bargaining rights. I insisted that a man stand up with me then, as Co-chairman of our teachers’ group, and I definitely wanted one here with me now.

By now, the police had arrived, which means one officer who seemed to be about 30 years old. Fart Man, the old Neanderthal who would not provide his name or insurance information but felt like a Big Man threatening a 5’ 2” woman whose car he had just ruined while driving like a maniac. Naturally, Mr. Neanderthal insisted on telling HIS story first. I ambled over near where he was bending the cop’s ear, because I just knew Neanderthal Man was giving a creative version of how innocent he was. [HE didn’t drive right up my rear end, practically into my back seat. HE wasn’t going fast. HE wasn’t tailgating. He was totally blameless, of course, and I should be hanged as a witch at sunrise.]

This seems to be quite the refrain of late. I had considered taking out an ad offering to be the “scapegoat” for all the world’s problems, (for a fee, of course.)  Mr. Policeman didn’t want me to listen in on the old fart’s version. He instructed me to go sit in my vehicle, which I did without protest, joining my husband there. He had found my insurance papers for me in my glove box when I became rattled at the prospect of imminent injury from Neanderthal man and fled to hide within my vehicle.

Now the young policeman (who actually said, after taking my statement that he wished we had met under different circumstances) took my statement (and it took him a really long time to write everything up, indicating that there was zero damage to Mr. Neanderthal’s vehicle, but $1,500 to mine.)

We have now taken my poor Grasshopper to the Toyota dealership and filled out claims forms with State Farm and I will be without a vehicle for some period of time while parts are ordered and repairs are made. I am grateful that I was not hurt. I am grateful, also, that Mr. Neanderthal was not hurt… although I wish he would try, for once in his selfish life, to put himself in someone else’s shoes and realize that tailgating someone and hogging the road (I would have had to merge, eventually, but HE was not going to let some little Libtard car push his big ol’ honkin’ Toyota Tundra around. HE was going to be Numero Uno in line and, if you don’t like it, well, I’ll just gun my vehicle and run right over you!) And I wasn’t even at the point of needing to “merge.” God only knows what he might have done if I HAD tried to merge, with him in the left lane. I’m glad I never tried to do so while his silver truck was on the loose.

That, my friends, was my Thursday afternoon (March 31), one day after my wedding anniversary (over 40, so alert the media). It was not the anniversary present I had most desired.

I hope Mr. Neanderthal learns to be civil, polite and courteous and also reads up on the rules about how you MUST give your name at the scene of an accident, something that he flatly refused to do. As for the “let’s call the cops” thing: I needed the cops more than he did, since he had obviously done this sort of thing before (judging from the variety of paint colors displayed on his undented bumper) and he seemed to be a very unpleasant, impolite, poorly raised creep. I’m not going to give you his name. He knows who he is. If there’s any justice an even BIGGER vehicle will tailgate him and cream his car some day, and maybe, if he’s as mouthy and unpleasant as he was to me, cream him, as well.
Whatever happened to the days when, if you rear-ended somebody who was driving ahead of you, it was an automatic ticket. That’s what it should have been, for this guy. But instead, he’s still out there, tailgating unsuspecting small vehicles and probably shouting “ramming speed!” as he hits them. And, of course, telling HIS fantastical story to the police FIRST, because God forbid anyone but Mr. Neanderthal is allowed to go first.
Doesn’t he remember the Beatitude that said, “The first shall be last?” Keep that in mind while speeding up Kennedy Drive in East Moline, Illinois, hoping to be able to, at some point, merge into traffic without having to fight your way in.

The Tall Ships in Chicago at Navy Pier

These three ships were lined up alongside the dock a few days after the arrival ceremonies.Recently, 30 to 50 “Tall Ships” sailed to Chicago and assembled at Navy Pier. It is an event that happens infrequently—-not for at least 4 years or more— and, when these old-fashioned sailing ships all assemble, tourists flock to the site to take their pictures, as I did. I know from my friends in Pub Quiz Trivia Room on AOL that some had set out from England to make the journey.

Unfortunately, to actually stand alongside the ships will cost you $15. To climb onboard, as you see happening with one ship, will cost you even more. To park your vehicle for a weekday in the Navy Pier parking garage will cost you a flat rate of $20 and, if it’s a weekend, it will cost you $24.

Red Sails in the Sunset.

I rode my bike to Navy Pier and you will have to forgive the fact that the shots are from further away on the Pier where we freeloaders could take the shots without ponying up $39 just to park and take a couple of photographs.

You can see the passengers aboard this Tall Ship.

Ship with Chicago skyline in background. A replica of the Mutiny on the Bounty ship was among the Tall Ships, but not on display this day. The ships stayed only 4 days.

Dale Chihuly Glass Artwork on Display Near Nashville on Cheekwood Estate Until Oct. 31, 2010

Born in 1941 in Tacoma, Washington, Dale Chihuly was introduced to glass while studying interior design at the University of Washington, from which he graduated in 1965.

After graduation, Chihuly enrolled in the first glass program in the country at the University of Wisconsin, a program founded by Harvey K. Littleton. He continued his studies at the Rhode Island School of Design (RISD), where he later established the glass program and taught it for over ten years.

In 1968, Chihuly was awarded a Fulbright Fellowship to work at the Veninine factory in Venice, Italy.  While in Venice, Chihuly observed the team approach to blowing glass, which is critical to the way he works today.  In 1971, Chihuly cofounded Pilchuck Glass School in Washington.  With this international glass center, Chihuly has led the avant-garde in the development of glass as a fine art.  His work is included in over 200 museum collections worldwide, he has been the recipient of many awards, including 8 honorary doctorates and 2 fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Sylistically, over the past 40 years, Chihuly’s sculptures in glass have explored color, line and assemblage.  His work ranges from the single vessel to indoor-outdoor site-specific installations (Schaumburg main library, for one), and he is best known for his multipart blown compositions.  His lielong affinity for glasshouses has grown into a series of exhibitions within botanical settings, enabling the artist to juxtapose monumental, organically shaped sculptural forms with beautiful landscaping, creating a spectacular integration of nature and art.

Nashville’s Lexus Dealership partnered with the Cheekwood Museum, a 55-acre-site endowed by the Maxwell House Coffee Fortune, to use 8,000 glass sculpture pieces from the Chihuly collection in 18 separate locations selected by Chihuly himself.

In addition to day-time viewing ($17 for adults; $12 for students; $12 for seniors), ending at 4:30 p.m., on Thursday and Friday nights the display is open for night-time viewing, with the spectacular pieces lit up.

This blue glass sculpture appears to be falling, but is actually floating.

Chihuly himself resembles an overweight, overaged pirate, complete with an eye patch he needs since an accident in England put him through the windshield of his car.  A bodysurfing accident also dislocated his shoulder, causing him to become even more dependent on his team approach.

There was even a lawsuit (settled out of court) against former team members Bryan Rubino and Robert Kaindl in 2006. The first HDTV show shown in this country was “Chihuly Over Venice” in November of 1998 and “Chihuly in the Hotshop” was syndicated to American Public Television on November 1 of 2008.

Called "The Sun," this piece stands 13 feet high and, until January of 2006, was exhibited in England's Kew Gardens.

This lavendar piece resembles a floral centerpiece.

Iceberg-like blue shapes, floating in a pond.

Lavender glass amongst foliage at Cheeksworth Estate.

Another gorgeous glass installation at Cheeksworth Estates.

Blue spikes, yellow curlicues and a statue add to the Chihuli effect.

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