wednesday, M- and i were supposed to have lunch at his place. now that he's dating our good friend T-, he and i don't really hang out much. (my basic theory: hm, you are no longer available to give me the attention i require, so...) but i had been feeling a little bad that i dropped off the earth for a little bit so we agreed on a cheap lunch date at his place.
M- moved to the northside, across from the catholic church where he's music director. it's an old neighborhood full of families, indie rockers who've been priced out of bucktown and wicker park and people's grandparents. it's like the brooklyn of chicago, almost. since it was a mild blustery day, i decided to take the bus up western to his place and walk over. the best of al green played on my disc man and i was in urban bliss, traveling across the city to my own soul soundtrack.
when i got to his place, i looked for a buzzer. couldn't find one. i read all the little notes and signs on the front door. i even jiggled the doorknob. there was his mailbox. how to get in? i walked around to the side of the building; maybe there was another entrance. nothing except an entrance to a lawyer's office on the ground floor. two white haired old men shuffled past, giving me a once over as i paced on the sidewalk. i called M-. wrong number. strange, i thought. i re-read the signs telling the UPS man to come on up if he had a delivery. whatever, i thought. no one would actually leave their front door unlocked in the city for a UPS man.
so i called M- again. still a wrong number and the guy who answered was getting pissed off. by this time i'd been loitering for about 10 minutes on the sidewalk wondering how i was going to get to M-'s apt. it never ocurred to me to actually open the effing door. i mean, this is the city! who leaves their front door unlocked to all and sundry? off the sidewalk??! it's unsafe!
so i found M-'s car, wrote a note and stuck it under his windshield:
"hey! i was here! i did NOT blow you off! i just didn't want to get arrested for breaking into your building. so...boo. let's reschedule for next week. i have your birthday card. love, ding"
it also never ocurred to me to get ghetto, step into traffic and yell up at his window. i just turned around, started walking the pleasant 5 blocks to the train back to the loop, sang 'how can you mend a broken heart' aloud and spent a lovely afternoon in bookstores reading dirty french poetry instead.
there are things i'll do for friendship but, apparently, using common sense isn't one of them.
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