21 April 2009


::wwwwWWAAAAAAAaaaaaaaahhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnng::  The wind from a passing CTA bus pushed my hair back from my face and broke me out of my morning haze, back into the reality that I was standing in a puddle in the middle of West Foster Avenue during rush hour.  Literally, in the middle, empty coffee cup in hand, stumbling toward the neighborhood Starbucks for a pick-me-up before Jewish Backgrounds of the New Testament at 8:15.  My best friend's words of wisdom bounced around my cerebral cortex, "Stepping out in front of a moving car on Foster is really a leap of faith...you're trusting them to eventually stop, aren't you?"  I stared down the driver of a silver Miata, daring him to speed up and therefore violate the Chicago jaywalkers code of honor.  Oh yes, my friend, my glare seemed to say, next time I'm driving and you're jaywalking, I will stop for you.  He complied, slowing down enough to allow me to pass and metaphysically dropping his sword of transportation at my noble feet.  I was the victor in this battle, and to the victor goes the caffeine spoils.  I ignored the stinging rain on my face as I tripped through the familiar door.  Oh no, I realized as I clumsily pulled the door toward me, I have become That Girl.  The one who doesn't function without coffee in the morning.  The door rushed back to its position, bumping my backside and pushing me into the relatively empty lobby.  Evidently it agrees.

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