Failcation in the Windy City

Four years ago this day, March 22, 2009 - a date which will live in infamy - a group of friends was suddenly and deliberately attacked by the combined forces of the City of Chicago.

Four years ago this day, a group of friends was on vacation in the Windy City. The friends were having an awesome time and being general rockstars. They ate delicious pizza. They celebrated the glory that was an Einstein’s bagel; they shopped and scored 90% off designer clothes. They drank bubble tea and laughed and laughed and laughed the nights away. But then, as their last night in the city drew to a close, quickly and silently the fail monster came all up in their hotel room and raped them in the face.

Sunday morning, the hungover friends depart their hotel for delicious bagels to help them cope with their rough last-night-in-the-city throwdown. They squeeze into a taxi like an accordion and direct the driver to the nearest Einstein’s. The friends arrive in the financial district only to find that Einsteins doesn’t open on Sunday. The friends are devastated and move to a café where they are not able to eat bagels. One friend is so distraught that he falls out of the booth and busts face.

The friends decide to move on and make the most of their last few hours in the city. They meander down Michigan Avenue with minimal success at finding anything purchase worthy. Then the friends decide to get some of that fancy Chicago popcorn. The friends pull out the iPhone GPS and set off for a popcorn adventure. The friends arrive to a 60% demolished popcorn shop. The friends will not partake in any popcorn this day.

The friends then decide its time to cut their losses and go home. The friends taxi back to their hotel, check out, lug their bags down the street and onto the train, and call a crazy Russian to take them to their car parked out in the ghetto. The crazy Russian spends the car ride telling them all about his super rad boost mobile phone. The friends are simultaneously amused and scared by crazy Russian. Crazy Russian drops the friends off at their car with a wave and a creepy "Bye byyyyyye."

The friends load into their car nicknamed the pussy wagon and boasting a giant "batman for president" decal in the back window to set sail for home. The friends drive approximately 700 feet. The pussy wagon starts to sputter. Then the pussy wagon convulses. Then the pussy wagon’s malfunction light starts flashing. The friends limp along to the nearest gas station and attempt to look under the hood. The friends can’t find the hood pop latch thingamabob. At all. The friends call roadside assistance.

Roadside assistance takes forever and requires an egregious amount of over the phone paperwork, but finally the friends are about to be hooked up with a tow truck. Roadside assistance suffers a computer glitch and the friends must start all over. One hour later a tow truck arrives. Tow Truck Man is also unable to locate the hood pop latch thingamabob. So Tow Truck Man loads the pussy wagon onto his truck and ships it off to the closed VW dealership.

The friends remain at the Subway attached to the Citgo in the ghetto. The friends attempt to formulate a plan while eating $5 Footlongs and cookies. They will ride a cab to the airport where they will rent a car with their roadside assistance allowance. Sandwiches finished and plan formulated, one friend steps out into the ghetto to hail a taxi. A taxi pulls up and pops the trunk. The friend walks to the trunk to start loading bags. The taxi peels out and drives away. The friend tries again. Another taxi stops. The friend approaches the trunk. Taxi number two does the EXACT. SAME. THING. The friends hail a third taxi and jump in that ish with the quickness of the Flash and are off to the airport to find a rental car.

The taxi driver takes the friends to the lot where the rental cars are stored and dumps them off. The friends do not need to be in the rental car storage lot. The friends need to be at the checkout counter way up in the airport. The friends pretend to have just dropped off their car and board the shuttle from the lot to the airport.

In the airport the friends attempt to secure a one way rental car. They stop at the National counter. They are rejected. They mosey off to the Avis counter; rejected. They skiddadle to the enterprise counter; rejected. They try their luck at the Alamo counter; rejected, twice. They cry for the woman at the Thrifty counter; still rejected. They drag themselves to the Dollar counter; rejected. They throw themselves at the mercy of the Budget counter; they are offered an Impala for $250 plus 80 cents per mile = rejected.

The friends now decide that since they are at an airport and it is 6pm and they can’t get a car they should attempt to fly. The friends make a mad dash to the Southwest counter upstairs. The friends wait in a Disneyland length line and finally approach the ticket counter to beg for a plane ticket. Dena, the sales woman, informs the friends that the flight is full but invites them to buy standby tickets. This, she tells them, will entitle them to get on the plane if someone bails or to be shit out of luck if someone doesn’t. The friends look at each other with nervousness and exhaustion and throw down their $130.

The friends realize they must check at least one bag or lose $100 worth of liquidy beauty products. They rearrange and get it checked. The bag is loaded up on the plane to Louisville. The friends head off to find some caffeine and check in at the standby counter. At the standby counter the friends are told that everything is golden. There are still seven people who haven’t checked in so they should be good to go. The friends kick back with some coke zeros and breathe a sigh of relief that they will be in Kentucky in two hours.

The plane boards and the friends are informed by the uppity standby lady that it is full. The friends aren’t going to be home until tomorrow. The friends’ checked bag will be home tonight. The friends plop down at the food court to search for a hotel. They rock out a Priceline special – Doubletree Midway Airport. The friends are sad that they don’t get to go home yet, but take solace in the fact that they’re gonna go get a fancy ass dinner with their roadside assistance food allowance and will get to rest soon.

The friends head off back to the Southwest counter and get Dena to trade their standby tickets for real ones on the 6:30 flight the following morning. Dena instructs them that they can catch a shuttle to their hotel by stepping outside door #2. The friends step outside door number 2 and proceed to wait 35 minutes. Finally the friends say eff the shuttle and hail a taxi. The friends begin loading their luggage in the trunk. The cabbie freaks out and tells the friends to get it out. The friends are informed that no pickups can be made at this platform. The friends need to go to the downstairs door number 2. The friends have been waiting 35 minutes at the wrong platform.

The friends grab the escalator and meander downstairs to the correct platform. They make their way through the plethora of shuttles, limos and taxis until they find the red shuttle that Dena told them they needed. They ask the shuttle driver to take them to their Doubletree hotel. The shuttle driver declines saying he doesn’t actually go there and instructs them to call the hotel to secure a shuttle. It is now 8:45 and the friends are wrecked up tired so they decide to just pay for a taxi. They hail one and jump in.

The friends are greeted by Crazy Willie, the taxi driver with the purple James Brown wig. The friends tell Crazy Willie to take them to the airport Doubletree. Crazy Willie tells the friends about how he was a Motown singer with Marvin Gaye, is a professor at two universities, and has eight adopted daughters who are attorney anesthesiologists. The friends quickly realize Crazy Willie is completely frigging nuts. Suddenly, the friends also realize they are on northbound I-95. The friends begin to suspect Crazy Willie is not taking them the right way. Crazy Willie tells them to calm down. The friends explain that they have just had a bad day and are tired. Crazy Willie informs them that they don’t yet know what a bad day is and proceeds to sing an improvised song about the friends. The friends beg Crazy Willie to just let them out and so that they may take the train. Crazy Willie informs them that he cannot let them do that. Crazy Willie keeps on trucking. Crazy Willie is now winding the friends through Wicker Park (which is on the opposite end of the city from the airport and airport hotels). The friends tell Crazy Willie again to let them out and instruct him to stop at Damen Avenue (in Wicker Park). Crazy Willie gets back on I-95 and heads toward downtown, all the while telling the friends about the importance of education. One friend is now crying. Another is a half a breath away from strangling Crazy Willie. The friends spot the Hilton where they had been staying up ahead. One friend finally yells at Crazy Willie to let them out at that hotel. Crazy Willie tells the friends they need to chill out. They scream at Crazy Willie that they are tired, he’s taken them away from where they need to be, he's freaking them the hell out, and they just want out. Crazy Willie finally dumps the friends off at the Hilton after taking their money from them.

The friends are now right back where they started. The friends flop down in the lobby and cry and swear. It is 10:50. They are back in the city. They have had no food and have slept 3 hours in the past 48. The friends decide to form a plan. They pull out the iPhone GPS and realize they are thirtysomeodd miles from the hotel where they’re supposed to be. The friends decide they will cancel the reservation at the airport hotel and just stay at the Hilton again. The friends call Priceline to cancel the hotel; rejected. The friends call the hotel to cancel the reservation; rejected. The friends decide to make the cab company come back and take them to their hotel for free for screwing up so bad with Crazy Willie. The friends are informed that there is only Crazy Willie and one other cabbie at the whole company. The friends are too scared to ask one of them to come back and take them where they need to be. The friends are not fans of disembowelment. The friends then make a new plan. They will just stay at the Hilton and eat the cost of the Doubletree reservation. The friends are informed there is a housewares convention that just came to town and all 1800 rooms are full.

The friends resign themselves to taking another cab back to the airport to get on the right shuttle. It is now 11:30. The friends still haven’t eaten or slept. They decide they will eat some sugar at Fat Girl’s Christmas (that's Dunkin Donuts for those of you not in the know) when they arrive at the airport. Fat Girl’s Christmas closed at 10. The friends stand there dejected, hungry, and exhausted and anticipate their next fail.

Unbeknownst to the friends, salvation was at that moment pulling into the "kiss and ride " lot (Seriously could they have possibly come up with a more sexual sounding term for the drop off lot? I'll kiss and ride ya, babe). The friends spot Doubletree bus rolling in. It is the correct bus. The friends board the bus and tell the driver all about their woes. He laughs and is sympathetic to the friends, telling him that after hearing their story he never wants to travel again. He then offers to get the friends some food. The friends proceed through the Wendy’s drive through in the Doubletree bus and purchase Frosties and fries that they finally eat on their beds at 12:45am. The friends indulge in a whopping four hours of sleep, then load up on a plane. One friend has a planeaphobia meltdown. The friends cry down the runway and safely land in Kentucky an hour later. Failcation is over and they have survived.

And that, friends, is the story of my last ever spring break. All 100% unembellished truth.