Via Chicago: The Lollapalooza Chronicles (Volume I)
Before I progress, I’ll provide a disclaimer.
This will be far and away the longest LJ entry I will ever write, as this story is truly epic in its scope. I’m not even sure if it will all fit into one entry (ETA: It won't). However, if you have the patience, I strongly suggest that you read it all, as there are some truly great moments detailed in the many, many cuts that are to follow.
Now let’s get comfortable-this will take a while.
Getting There (or, Steady as She Goes)
Skipping the mostly uneventful exposition of Wednesday’s trip from EL with Steve to Metro Detroit, the real story begins on Thursday, after we pick up Kevin and head out on I-94 towards the Windy City for three days of rock and roll glory. After hours of endless expressway in Michigan and Indiana blasting the AC and listing to some sweet indie tunes (remember this, it’s important later), we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of Chicago rush hour traffic. Granted, we could have easily avoided said traffic and headed straight for the safety of my aunt and uncle’s house in the ‘burbs, but we were men on a mission: the box office was open, and there were wristbands for the taking.
Fortunately, the time was passed with endless amusement courtesy of the car in front of us, a bright orange Nissan Murano with an inexplicable vanity license plate reading “BUGHAZI”. Were they Fugazi fans who fell victim to a typo at the DMV (but how did that account for the H)? Was it the phonetic representation of some word in Arabic? (Liz/Nick, if this is the case please enlighten me) In the end, all that mattered was it was fun to yell, and Kevin may have a name for his new band now.
(A rough approximation of the noteworthy plate)
Arriving in Chicago and parking in the shadow of the Sears Tower, we progress to Grant Park, where we take a moment to marvel at how gorgeous it is before being issued our hallowed wristbands. As we return to the car, I call my aunt and informed that there will be delicious deep dish pizza waiting for us upon our arrival. All is right with the world, so naturally this is where things get interesting. Kevin and I notice that we’ve been waiting for some time for Steve to pull the car out of the spot, only to see him sitting there trying to start the car in vain. After some quick troubleshooting, we determine it must be the battery, and find someone to jump us. This involves us putting the car in neutral and pushing it out of the spot, but we get the job done. However, as we leave the garage, we notice the dash keeps flickering on and off, with the gauges periodically resetting themselves. Despite this bad omen, we proceed forth to the highway before realizing none of us know how to get there. We wind up lost in a shady part of town, and just block after Kevin points out a man getting arrested on the street corner, the car dies again. Not knowing what else to do, we quickly find someone else to jump the car and get the hell out of there, despite it being very obvious at this point that this car is not making it the 45 minute drive to Buffalo Grove. We find a Target on the outskirts of town and take advantage of its free parking garage, and start making phone calls. I call my aunt and explain the situation, and Steve gets on the line with AAA. Luckily, my uncle is flying into O’Hare and can come pick us up, and a tow truck is on its way to take the car to the local Honda dealership. Better yet, despite having a three hour window in which said truck may arrive, the truck and my uncle arrive at the exact same time (As Kevin put it, it was like God looked down and said, “Okay, I’ve messed with you kids enough for one day”). By 10pm, we drop the car off at the dealership and arrive to my aunt’s house at 11, a full twelve hours after departing Metro Detroit.
And just think-the concert hasn’t even started yet.
This will be far and away the longest LJ entry I will ever write, as this story is truly epic in its scope. I’m not even sure if it will all fit into one entry (ETA: It won't). However, if you have the patience, I strongly suggest that you read it all, as there are some truly great moments detailed in the many, many cuts that are to follow.
Now let’s get comfortable-this will take a while.
Getting There (or, Steady as She Goes)
Skipping the mostly uneventful exposition of Wednesday’s trip from EL with Steve to Metro Detroit, the real story begins on Thursday, after we pick up Kevin and head out on I-94 towards the Windy City for three days of rock and roll glory. After hours of endless expressway in Michigan and Indiana blasting the AC and listing to some sweet indie tunes (remember this, it’s important later), we find ourselves smack dab in the middle of Chicago rush hour traffic. Granted, we could have easily avoided said traffic and headed straight for the safety of my aunt and uncle’s house in the ‘burbs, but we were men on a mission: the box office was open, and there were wristbands for the taking.
Fortunately, the time was passed with endless amusement courtesy of the car in front of us, a bright orange Nissan Murano with an inexplicable vanity license plate reading “BUGHAZI”. Were they Fugazi fans who fell victim to a typo at the DMV (but how did that account for the H)? Was it the phonetic representation of some word in Arabic? (Liz/Nick, if this is the case please enlighten me) In the end, all that mattered was it was fun to yell, and Kevin may have a name for his new band now.
(A rough approximation of the noteworthy plate)
Arriving in Chicago and parking in the shadow of the Sears Tower, we progress to Grant Park, where we take a moment to marvel at how gorgeous it is before being issued our hallowed wristbands. As we return to the car, I call my aunt and informed that there will be delicious deep dish pizza waiting for us upon our arrival. All is right with the world, so naturally this is where things get interesting. Kevin and I notice that we’ve been waiting for some time for Steve to pull the car out of the spot, only to see him sitting there trying to start the car in vain. After some quick troubleshooting, we determine it must be the battery, and find someone to jump us. This involves us putting the car in neutral and pushing it out of the spot, but we get the job done. However, as we leave the garage, we notice the dash keeps flickering on and off, with the gauges periodically resetting themselves. Despite this bad omen, we proceed forth to the highway before realizing none of us know how to get there. We wind up lost in a shady part of town, and just block after Kevin points out a man getting arrested on the street corner, the car dies again. Not knowing what else to do, we quickly find someone else to jump the car and get the hell out of there, despite it being very obvious at this point that this car is not making it the 45 minute drive to Buffalo Grove. We find a Target on the outskirts of town and take advantage of its free parking garage, and start making phone calls. I call my aunt and explain the situation, and Steve gets on the line with AAA. Luckily, my uncle is flying into O’Hare and can come pick us up, and a tow truck is on its way to take the car to the local Honda dealership. Better yet, despite having a three hour window in which said truck may arrive, the truck and my uncle arrive at the exact same time (As Kevin put it, it was like God looked down and said, “Okay, I’ve messed with you kids enough for one day”). By 10pm, we drop the car off at the dealership and arrive to my aunt’s house at 11, a full twelve hours after departing Metro Detroit.
And just think-the concert hasn’t even started yet.