Yeah, I had to check the spelling too.


I hoped life would slow down by this point in my journey toward who knows what.

My mom and best friend passed away before I finished college. I made an impulsive decision to move to a new city without much foresight. I ghosted my first partner by shutting a door on him and walking away without notice. And, I survived a near-death car spin after hitting black ice at 50ish mph.

Oh. I also got roofied. The end was nowhere in sight. . .

Look, living in Chicahhhgo was AWESOME! Bright lights. Big city. Anonymity. It was the perfect recipe for me because I was as lost as a puppy in a daycare.

Working in the suburbs though? Not so much. I was “that guy” from the city with some sense of style. And by “style,” I mean, I always wore a matching belt and shoes. Normal right?

But those teachers looked at me like I was the weird one. Apparently the suburbs just kill all fashion creativity.

But I digress.

Monday through Friday, I got up at 5. Walked out the door at 5:45. Got to school at 7. Left at 3:45. Plopped on my couch at 5 at the earliest.

12 hour days. Every day for 3 years and some change. “Some change” is another story. Oof. Major oof.

So to offset my monotonous work life, a certain “scene” in Chicago caught my attention. I became a late-night regular to a famous bar on the north side of Chicago. Like, the hours between 12 to 4 on Friday and Saturday nights were my jam for many years.

I danced my weekends away. Or drank myself silly. Or both. Or other things. I plead the fifth.

But that particular night was no different. Except I was the target of a roofie. And I don’t remember a thing. I still don’t remember a thing.

I woke up the next morning and all my belongings were scattered around my apartment. Someone had rummaged through my entire apartment. My kitchen cabinets. My oven. My medicine cabinet. My oven? Really?!

But I guess I shouldn’t have gotten in a car with a complete stranger at 5 in the morning after the bar. Whoops. Some good samaritan he was.

Other than that car ride and my stuff being left out like a monsoon had hit, nothing comes to mind. Blank. Nada. There may have been some parallel parking? Grey.

Man, Chicahhhgo was panning out to be a lot more than I had ever imagined! Bye Georgia! Hello crazy.

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