Division Street Revisited

My fourth night in Chicago was when I returned to Division Street. It was a loud and bright strip of clubs and bars that seemed to stretch a mile from the intersection of were it met a darkened affluent neighborhood all the way down to a very fittingly busy Walgreen's. I had met three guys on the first day, post bro types who were very nice. The four of us would soon become the 'popular' group in our building, something that would take some getting accustom to in what I thought was a college setting.

There was Jeff, still very much a bro in every way. His parents were rich, his clothes cost more than my entire wardrobe, and his jokes were awful. But as far as roommates went he was still very nice and very loyal, if perpetually sweaty. Then there was Ralph. Ralph was from New York and very much the only other alpha male I had around. He was white and yet he was the blackest guy I'd meet for at least another two months. Ralph was very aggressive, I suspect it had to do with his New York upbringing, New Yorkers all act a certain way and I suspect it stems from the same upbringing more or less. Lastly there was Arthur, the nicest and most sane after myself. He was the person I talked to most when we went out because we would both see trouble before it started and warn the other two that it was time to stop being jackasses and leave. We exercised common sense a lot while drunk, which is why I am so slow to actually get drunk today.

Our first night out we had managed to befriend a man in charge of one of these night clubs and got the okay to forgo the velvet rope process outside whenever we wanted. So after getting off of the red line and hitting the actual strip we decided to make that our last stop in an effort to show off when we passed everyone else and fist bumped the proprietor on our way in. By the time we left the Irish pub and I had done my requisite double fist of vodka at one place and bourbon neat at another we decided to head over to 'our place'. The street had reached critical mass, it reminded me of a bizarre or a block party the way the sidewalks hemorrhaged people onto the street. Police officers trying frantically to keep the weebles from wobbling into the path of a errant cab or two still determined to get through the crowd and onto Michigan Avenue.

The night prior was an unusually quiet and low key one, Jeff and I had went to the beach with Art and Ralph earlier and worked out in the building's exercise room. Needless to say we were too tired to go out like night's previous even at the urge to the contrary by the others. So we go outside to smoke and walk to the seven eleven for snacks. This is when we ran into very pretty girls smoking and sitting on the pavement. A blonde named Sienna and a messy haired brunette named Alyssa. Jeff wanted Sienna and went right to her, which was fine with me because I wanted Alyssa. Seven eleven could wait, and within five minutes they were in our living room feigning laughter at Jeff's jokes and pick up artist style build up/put downs.

Jeff had lulled the evening into a potential failure, full of awkward silences and watch glances when I noticed Alyssa's green Columbia issue water bottle. I asked her what she was drinking when she smiled this devilish smile and said.

"Gin."

She laughed a bit and for the first time I noticed she was well on her way to being shit faced. Then I laughed, she was quirky. Easily the only original person here, while everyone else feigned 'hipster lite' at their best. I threw out some tasteless jokes to gauge exactly where she was humor wise. The more offensive and funny I thought I got, the harder she laughed. Our senses of humor were aligned almost completely. So far she was batting at 70%, then the pale girl who seemed to be elsewhere started speaking Spanish while drunk. 100%, she was perfect. At the end of hour two Alyssa was conversing with me in broken Spanish while unhappy Sienna was left to deal with Jeff on the other couch. This wasn't going to fly with her, so she grabs Alyssa by the arm and leaves with her. No phone number exchange or anything.

While we moved into the dense street crowd I couldn't help but think about the brunette with the best sense of humor I had ever seen on a woman. I wished I could see her again when all of a sudden I hear her scream my name. I was never one who believed in coincidences but this was certainly the best example of it trying to convince me otherwise that I have ever seen. I take off back to the sidewalk, my friends close in tow. Jeff notices that Sienna is holding up a very drunk Alyssa and tries to put the moves on again. He was persistent if anything, I would give him that. Sienna looked worried and when I asked why Alyssa cut her off and offered up the explanation that an older Russian man had been chasing her and her friend from bar to bar all night. He obviously wanted Alyssa and after buying her a few drinks she got cold feet and tried to what in his mind he interpreted as 'welch' on their contractual drink agreement. It was at this time I had noticed a large guy who resembled Dane Cook standing behind them.

"He's Dane Cook!", Alyssa yelled. Her voice warbling from trying to hold back laughter. "He's a total bro!"

Dane Cook frowned. He didn't seem to like her or her jokes. I wondered why he hadn't scared the Russian off, he had one of those UFC bodies and the tight black shirt on as if to advertise he had one of those bodies. Surely he could have just gave the Soviet Statutory Rapist a ice cold stare down and that would have been enough? I suddenly got the bad feeling that we weren't home free yet. I put Alyssa who was anchored on me and Arthur fully onto the poor guy and pulled Jeff aside. I proposed we at least get the girls into that club with us and then call it a night and get a cab after waiting this shit out for a while. I know Jeff, Jeff would have said fuck that if he still weren't trying to catch the S.S. Sienna. Which sailed at the point she dragged her friend home last night. After taking my idea as his own we make our way back into the street ocean when I turn around. No Alyssa.

"Where is she?" I asked Arthur.

"She said she was going to find you." He said.

This was bad. Very bad. We were at red alert. I heard a faint 'noooo' com from the alley behind us, Ralph being the only one I trusted in a fight gave me the nod and followed me in. This alley made yet another sub alley in it that Russian had somehow shoved Alyssa in faster than any of us could notice. He had her pinned up against a brick wall next to a dumpster.

"Let her go!" I yelled. I felt kind of cliched saying this, but that would have to wait until later.

"Bad move." Ralph added.

The Russian turned around. He seemed much older than I thought he would be. He appeared to be balding, and sported a leather jacket. He was rail thin and sullen in the face. If he really were Russian, I'd bet money that he'd spent a lot of time in a gulag at some point. Luckily he was short so what was about to happen didn't bother the two of us.

"Get the fuck out of here." He murmured in that thick accent of his.

At this point he produced a switch blade. Switch blades I am accustomed to, having used knives myself I can handle a knife. He came at us when we didn't move. Ralph moved to one arm, I moved to the other. We slammed the Russian up against the dumpster hard. Before he could get off I took a shot at him. I wouldn't feel how hurt my knuckles were until the morning. Right now the alcohol and adrenaline had rendered that shot to his gut a non-issue. Then Ralph took over and cracked him in the face as I got Alyssa out of that alley.

"Where's Dane Cook, and Sienna?" She asked. Her voice hushed for some reason.

"Inside." I said as steered her into the club.

"I don't like your friend Jeff. He's a douche. A douche-bro." She said before laughing at her own joke. Just like that, her ordeal was a bad memory best to be forgotten. She felt better so now I felt better.

Ralph came in right on our heels. I asked where the Russian was and he informed me that super short Stalin had dropped his knife and ran after we did, only he took the opposite direction. I was surprised to see how the bodyguard remembered us from last night and immediately opened the door for us. I was even more surprised that we were directed to the VIP area. Roped off and seated on couches waving at us were the others. Dane Cook was up there too. He could have at least helped, the dick. I sat down on an empty couch and craved a cigarette and another drink.

"Want some?" Alyssa asked me.

I looked over and she was sitting next to me. Her green water bottle from last night thrust in my lap. I looked at that large purse of her's and wondered just how much stuff she could hide in there. That bottle smelled incendiary. I asked what she had in it this time. She shrugged as Sienna shook her and continued to asked her what happened and how she was.

"Things. Good things." She said. She always had a smirk on her face or a laugh following something she said. It was infectious.

"Fuck it, why not?" I said as I took it and drank.

It was vodka, and gin, and lemonade. My lips pursed. It was the only good tasting thing that could also clean our tub if necessary.

"Told you." She said. She lolled on the couch for a bit. Then laid on me.

It was late August why was she wearing a leather jacket I wondered.

I asked her and she mumbled something about liking Ernest Hemingway. I wouldn't understand why until much later.

Everyone had decided to leave at this point, they figured they had waited out the Eastern European and it was safe to go back into the street. I grabbed Alyssa's hand and walked her out to the sidewalk.

"Don't go." She said faintly.

"I'll be right back we're going to go hail a cab. Will you wait here for me?" I asked.

"Hurry back." She sort of whined.

Sienna, held firm to her at the no parking sign we left them at on the sidewalk. Dane Cook standing behind. I thought about telling the douche that there was no more room when it came time for him to finally load in and laughed. The remaining four of us hailed a cab rather quickly and explained we needed to get back to Van Buren ASAP. I waited with the cab driver making small talk while Jeff and Ralph walked the two feet back to the street where we left the girls and Dane Cook.

"Uh, you left them by the sign right?" Jeff asked walking over to me.

"Of course we did! What do you mean where'd I leave them?" I asked following him back to the sign.

Sure as shit they were gone. I wondered how tow women and a large cage fighter looking son of a bitch could slink off so quietly. We held that cab for three minutes while I looked. Nothing. Finally at my friends urging I got in and we came back to our building. It would be another two months before I found out from Alyssa that Dane Cook moved the ladies down the street and got a cab at the same time. He took them to his loft where he and Alyssa had attempted drunken sex before going to sleep. Guess the guy really wasn't into Sienna after all. The next morning I made an omelet, went jogging and somewhere on between admonished myself again for not getting Alyssa's phone number or even her apartment number. Then I laughed as the thought crossed my mind to fill my green Columbia water bottle with gin and leave it out on the sidewalk and wait to see if she'd take the bait.

A Note of No Consequence

In an effort to get into a more frequent posting habit I have decided to spend July transcribing some of my adventures at Columbia thus far down for posterity's sake. I also feel that if I don't commit at least some of them in writing somewhere I will positively explode since 2008 was the most vivid time in my life to date. I probably won't post every story I have (and there are many), the names therein will be changed, and they won't be in chronological order but it should still be fun to play the orator and get feedback for it. So join me this July won't you, it'll be a blast!

Because It's Always Time For Ariel Pink