The Second City

I told all my friends, my family, everyone that when I go to Chicago something insane always happens.

One year I was interviewed by a Chicago television station. They asked me where I would go to get away from the 100 degree tempertures. I answered Cairo. The reporter stared at me and asked, "Hey, isn't that hotter than here?"

"Dry heat," I replied. "Also, I was a July baby, I'm used to hot. I'd rather just enjoy myself seeing King Tut at the museum."

I got a blank stare. I turned with my cousin Krissy to go, Paul trailing behind us as he drew ever closer to heatstroke. Then on the way home, the Southshore train line broke down due to a power failure. We only just made it home before the horror struck all the poor commuters. Then we went back to Grandma's house.

Another year, I went home just as a massive blackout rolled across the east cost, causing all the poor commuters much trial. Gran called us on the cell phone, saying ominously, "The lights have gone out and the people are walking." It took us ages to find out what she meant, when we got back to her house with White Castle hamburgers. We also found out that if we had taken the next train, it would have died when the power went out and the horror struck all the poor commuters.

The next year, we went again, I was caught in a revolving door, and Paul wasyelled at by a security guard for touching a piece of artwork, and he said, "Come on, it's a piece of freakin' string!" the minute we walked around the corner.

But this trip...

Nothing happened.

I waited.

And waited.

And overanalyzed.

But NOTHING.

I mean, sure, that sniper and that copycat sniper has been following me around the state and shooting random people who were in the same place at almost the same time as me more times than I care to talk about. But nothing happened IN Chicago. And what's up with that? I mean, every time I've been something freaky has happened, I mean, my friend got mugged! But this time?

Okay, well, turns out it didn't happen to ME but it happened to someone.

I am going to be a pseudo-aunt. My cousin is having a baby (which makes me a second cousin but darned if I am giving up on an opportunity to be called an aunt).

I met up with her and all the rest of the family at Olive Garden, and Mom said: "Hey Krissy, you should have the baby while were up here so we can come and see the two of you!"

The next morning, we got a phone call.

"Auntie Julie jinxed me!" Krissy wailed. "I'm induced!"

Krissy, a diabetic, had hit the time at which she could have the baby and the doctor wanted her to go ahead and do it. Oops.

But then they did the ultrasound again and they found out that the level of amniotic fluid was actually okay and NOT to low, so they sent her home. After being admitted to the hospital, having a massive amount of tests, and being IV-ed. Which, according to Krissy, was superbly painful. And on the way to and fro, she and her immediate family passed where the sniper or sniper copycat was lurking and shooting at people.

So there we go.