“Ever notice that in Illinois it’s nice to be in a rural area because you don’t have to cringe every time you see a confederate flag?” Marc asked over lunch. As I remembered our experience every time we had been in rural Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Virginia, I knew he was right.
Veterans march during the short Memorial Day Parade in Mt. Carroll, IL.
Heading back to Chicago from outside of Galena we stopped in the rural town Sycamore, IL for lunch. We had cooked extra burgers the night before and so in our handy fridge we had our lunch supplies. We stopped in at a 7-11 to pick up soda (sorry Chicagoans, I still can’t call it “pop”) and a bag of Sun Chips.
So, this brings me to my coming clean session with you all: I’m addicted to Sun Chips. I can control my desire if it’s original flavor. Even Sour Cream and Onion, to my surprise, doesn’t sway me too harshly. But it’s the Harvest Cheddar flavor that makes me stuff my face while making yummy, chewy sounds like Homer Simpson.
We were in front of the Carroll County Courthouse on Memorial Day, surrounded by flags (see the pics). And it was in this spot where my addiction turned into manipulating those around me.
Memorial Day flags in front of the Carroll Count Courthouse. Sycamore, IL.
After Marc noticed that I had been essentially ignoring my otherwise tasty hamburger, he took the bag and put it on the other side of him – far out of reach. I defiantly took a bit out of my burger.
He pointed and said – “Look! See! Look at your fingers!” My right hand had turned a shade of unnatural yellow.
I ate my burger in silence, listening to the hundred or so American flags flap in the wind.
We finished our lunch and Marc noticed the parking meters behind us and said something about their age. Noticing their analog dials, I agreed that they had a cool factor to them. It was at this moment I spotted my opportunity.
You see, a few months ago, Chicago’s long-serving Mayor sold all of the parking meters to a private company – LAZ Parking, LLC. And yes, you can pronounce that “lazy.” He leased out the meters for 75 years for over a billion dollars. Consequently, in order to raise their revenue projections, Lazy Parking raised the meter rates on the very first day of the contract’s execution. So, to park downtown, you have to pay $3.25 an hour. In quarters. For Marc and I, it was the final straw of being nickel and dimed in this city. But now is not the time for me to jump onto a soapbox.
Now is the time to tell you how I scored big.
“How much are they per hour?” I asked, knowing that Marc would take the bait. He stood up and the moment his back was to me, I grabbed the Sun Chips and started opening the bag. I thought the noise would stir his suspicion.
It didn’t.
Afraid he would figure out my scheme the moment he saw the joy in my eyes, I shoved my hand into the bag and grabbed what I could.
Scraps. I couldn’t even grab a full chip, but I wasn’t going to waste anymore time in case my true intentions were to be discovered. I threw what I had into my mouth and dipped my hand into the bag for a second round. I scored big this time and quickly moved the loot up to my mouth.
I thought the sounds of the crunch would tip him off, but alas, he was too interested in the meters.
For once, I thanked Mayor Richard J. Daley and for that matter his father Richard M. Daley for being half the reason in making his son’s terms as mayor possible. Without them, my diversion wouldn’t have worked.
Perhaps I am proudest not about thinking of the diversion in the first place, but for the quick thinking which followed and continued the farce.
“Wow, you can’t even use quarters in these meters,” he said. “A penny gets you 12 minutes, a nickel an hour and a dime 2 hours.”
“Wow!” I said in a muffled tone. “Is the color of the violation flag the same color on both sides?” I knew that would buy me only a few seconds, but that equates to a whole other handful.
He checked. I nearly bit my pinky finger.
“What about…” now I have bits of Sun Chips spraying dust with each passing word “…. Spanish? Are the instructions in Spanish?” The air around me turned a beautiful hue of orange. It was desperate, I know. But so was I and it worked, for a short time.
He took one more look at me and I heard him ask: “Spanish?” He looked at the meter for less than a second and asked “Why the hell would it be in Spanish?” He looked back at me and saw the bag of chips in my hand and the lightbulb went off.
We both started cracking up and it took me a few minutes to be able to finish chewing my glorious Sun Chips between the bouts of laughter.
After we had calmed down a bit, I watched Marc walk around the grounds as I finished my burger and the Sun Chips urge had somehow subsided. As he rounded the monument for Union soldiers, a sneeze caught up with him and surprised him before he could cover his mouth. The sun somehow managed to sneak a few rays of light through the overcast skies – just enough to catch the resulting spray.
We both laughed because we knew that in addition to bringing our sense of adventure out West, we would also be bringing a whole new sense of class.
