Super 8 Waukegan
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We checked in, but the luggage was only checked to Dallas. Glad I looked, or we'd have 75 minutes to get our luggage and check back in. At DFW. Yah, right. As it is, we gotta run! This took a bit to sort out. Nearly had an International Incident. But the nice people behind the counter helped. Dallas is on time. All of my clothes are in American's hands now. Compression socks are compressing. And we're at gate K2. We're so used to gate h76 we walked right past ...
... Saturday and doing lots of tourist things. We plan to go to the Art Institute, lots of shopping, dinner at Bob's favorite German restaurant, and then ending the evening with my treat...the Harlem Dance Theater performance! Of course, in my usual forgetful way, Bob asked me last week, "When do we have tickets for the dance performance?" I said that I thought it was November 30 so we looked up our tickets. Guess what? It's this ...
... person ever" just appeared in a thought bubble over my head with a large amount of disdain. Stop talking in what you think is witty banter. You sound like a grade A moron. As I'm waiting for my plane, with a giant clover on it, to pull up to the gate I can't help but think-what the **** am I doing? I quit my job, moved all my stuff to Florida, and now I'm going to Europe. Ok.
... St. Mary's Hospital and each patient in our little group was dropped off individually at their prep room. The preop room was used for 'vitals" (I came to hate that word!), stripping and climbing into the lovely hospital wear and socks, and being taken off to another pre op room...for more waiting!
At 7:30, the anesthesiologist and nurse came to take me into the operating room where I was greeted warmly, told to just relax, and ...
... and universities. The homeless and ne'er-do-wells filled the streets too.
We hit Market Street and Union Station just in time for the furious rush hour, when thousands try to cross the bridges into Illinois after work. We sat for an hour waiting for our turn to enter the MLK Bridge. As I passed into Illinois, I noticed the fuel light was on. I could feel the car begin to stall. That meant I had to do the unthinkable and exit in East Saint Louis for gas.