In what form, you may ask, did this Howler arrive? Now by owl or even post. It came in the form of some sort of terrible karmic retribution, where all the stars aligned to torment me.
(at the wedding, before Ttam and Alyks went to the bar)I just was in Chicago for the weekend for Betta's wedding. Perhaps the rumors of the trip have already circulated (reports of riling up Canadians at 4 am at the bar, or Matt making the Iraq war veteran bridesmaid cry at 5 am at the bar), but the more important story is that of the karmic retribution. What is the best part of Chicago? The hot dogs, of course! and on the top of that list is Hot Doug's, source of the fantastic tee that I have been seen sporting (There are no finer words in the English language than "encased meat", my friend). And I have a bit of a history with Hot Doug (and no, I am most certainly not talking about Gardner). After hearing legendary tales of the duck fat fries, which are available only on Fridays, and the hot dog with foie gras served to protest the tyrannical ban on foie gras, I had no agenda other than going to Hot Doug's on my first visit to Chicago a couple of years ago. As I was about to get on the airplane, I hopped on the website only to find that Hot Dougs was CLOSED FOR THE ENTIRE WEEK in February that I was going to be in Chicago. Words cannot express my dismay. They close for one week a year and it just happened to be the one miserable week in February that I would be there. Well, I recovered, eventually, from that blow. [Is it inappropriate to use that particular metaphor when discussing hot dogs?]. Although I failed to realize it at the time, this was just one more dig of the universe punishing me for some yet incomprehensible transgression. The next trip to Chicago, over a year later, proved to be an aberration in the karmic scoreboard. I must have redeemed myself, if only momentarily. A friend picked me up at the airport and drove directly to Hot Dougs, where we proceeded to polish off 3 hot dogs and some (regular, non duck fatted) fries. The experience transcended all expectation so I bought the tee shirt to commemorate. Almost sucess! And then, after nearly another year had gone by, I found myself in Chicago a couple of weeks ago. And it was a Friday. I was feeling good. I was feeling great, actually! I couldn't wait to finally fulfill my date with destiny (by which, I mean duck fat fries). I was sneaking in a few chapters of my HP7 re-read and asked Matt to look up the address so we could head our for our fix. All of a sudden, I hear this great cackle of laughter, as if Matt finally got the cartoons in the New Yorker -- all of them, all at once. I waited impatiently while he recovered from the laughter to find out what was so funny. Yes, it is as you would expect from this long-winded build up: Hot Doug's was closed. AGAIN. FOR THE ENTIRE TIME I WAS IN CHICAGO. EVEN THOUGH IT WAS MARCH THIS TIME, AND NOT THAT WEEK IN FEBRUARY. ARGGGG.
So what else am I left to understand, other than that the entire cosmos rearranged the vacation schedule of Hot Doug's in an effort to foil me, yet again. It made me realize two things:1. that I, perhaps, am more than just an Extra in this grand production of life; and 2. perhaps I better start behaving myself a little better if I ever expect to get my hands on some piping hot duck fat fries from Hot Dougs (or oysters at Hog Island, or strawberries from the Watmaugh stand, etc. etc.). Just as soon as I can out how I soo offended the cosmos, I will try to straighten up and fly right.
(Did someone just say Cosmo? I'll take one, if you're offering...)
