Chicago Fever Dream

Today, after eating a rather decent three-course meal at some American kitchen in downtown Chicago, Linda and I decided to travel back to her office by foot because the Uber is simply too expensive at rush hour.

After walking twenty minutes in the awful Chicago rain, we arrived at her office to pick up my suitcase. During the journey, we trudged past a couple of suspicious-looking guys on the streets - but - they are not the main characters of this rather unique story.

At the office, I changed into a warm hoodie and prepared to go to the airport. Standing at the main entrance of the building, I patiently waited for Stanley to pick me up. Stanley did not pick me up. Stanley canceled. Some moments later, Lamar is scheduled to pick me up. You would assume that because Lamar’s Uber profile literally says he’s an “aspiring pilot,” he would not cancel on an airport trip. Well, Lamar canceled. Bummer.

Here, our savior of the story enters: Mohammed. Mohammed is a slay. His “boss-like” walk pose and his “hip” outfit echo his rather “lit” energy. He steps in - like a star - into my life, saving me from being late for my flight.

Mohammed opens the back of his car, and I stuff my suitcase in there. I climbed into the car and was absolutely astonished by what I saw. Fur, literal - fucking - fur, everywhere. The seats of this Mohammed guy’s entire car are covered by fur.

I quickly scooted further into the passenger’s seat, but something was restraining my entrance “Mohammed might’ve kidnapped me, odd,” I said to myself.

After a slow couple of seconds, I gathered my remaining bravery to turn around, and I shit you not, the rubber rim of our homie Mohammed’s car fell off. I was caught in the rubber rim of his car. The rim of his fucking car fell off.

Mohammed spent the next three minutes desperately trying to stuff the rim back into his car. He tried really hard and finally semi-successfully figured it out. By semi-successfully, I meant Mohammed forcefully pushed the door five times and eventually closed it. Well, sort of.

“Does this usually happen?”

I asked Mohammed.

“Ooo, uh, no. The previous person closed the door very hard.”

Mohammed said.

I was left speechless.

The rest of the ride was nice. I felt like I was cuddled by the warm long, tender fur in Mohammed’s car. I complimented Chicago (rare occurrence), and I thanked him for not cancelling the ride.

I also gave the guy 20 dollar cash tip.

Btw, unrelated, but I found my new interest - fish paleontology.