Wednesday I flew up to Chicago for the Dolby show at Martyr's. The trip to Houston was uneventful, but the trip to the windy city proves my contention yet again that God hates me. On a normal day, it is around a two hour flight, which would have left me plenty of time to meet up with my friend Jess, grab some dinner, and make the show. Fate had other plans for me, though. We were in the air for a long time. Seven hours total. Turns out we were circling O'Hare because of horrendous weather. We continued to do so until we had to divert to St. Louis to refuel. Showtime was 8pm, and a glance at my watch revealed that the best I could hope for was to miss the opener but still make the main show. Maybe. If he didn't go on until 9 pm. And I was on the ground in St. Louis. Unhappiness. Despair. Ultimately, I made it to the show about fifteen minutes after he started playing, so I missed Liepzig and, regrettably, One of Our Submarines. I also had to settle for the last half of I Live in a Suitcase, one of the two songs I came to hear. Budapest By Blimp, however, I heard in its wondrous entirety and it made the trip worthwhile. But I won't be getting on a plane again anytime soon.
The rest of the evening was more successful. Jess took me from one kick ass bar to another until around 3 AM or so. We had a great time. Needless to say, I missed my return flight at 8 AM, but managed to score a seat on a 9:15 and made my original connection back to BR. I was home a little after 1 PM, so it was a quick trip. But I'm glad I went.