The Weekend

Well my first weekend in Chicago was pretty good. Went out on Friday to one of my roomates cousins house for a little pre-bar party. Strange, it seems like just yesterday I was paying five dollars for a plastic cup at shitty apartment parties. Now I'm in a city at some swank apartment building sipping a gin and tonic or amstel light and eating chips, organic salsa, and miniature sandwiches. I feel like a real live grownup! I actually feel much less like a grownup and more just, old. I realized a couple other things this weekend. Saturday I had a wicked hangover. Hangovers in a place where you don't know anyone are much worse than the hangovers I used to get when I'd have to work at Locos the next morning. There's some degree of comfort in knowing that everyone around you is hungover. I didn't really have that on Saturday. I suppose it's just a case of misery loves company. I also realized that, in all likelihood, I'll never work a blue collar job again. The idea of never working a real job where you get dirty and sweat and are physically exhausted at the end of the day was kind of depressing. I loved jobs like that. I don't really know why, I guess there's just a very different type of satisfaction that comes from getting through a Friday night dinner rush. Something tells me filing my first patent isn't gonna give me that thrill, that sense of accomplishment. Maybe it's just the people that come with jobs like that, the characters. The debaucherous behavior thats inevitable with blue collar work. I'm not going to see that stuff at a firm or a corporation. It was weird to think that the possibility of my returning to a life like that is a pipe dream. Usually people think of pipe dreams in the complete opposite way. Oh yeah, you're gonna be a lawyer, what a pipe dream. I'm all switched around now. Granted, I wouldn't wanna cook or stock shelves for my entire life. Surely it'd get old eventually. But damn, I loved it while I did it. Hopefully I'll make enough money to own a restaurant, and maybe I'll get a taste of blue collar life again. Or maybe I'll get so sick of working for the man that I'll retire to some small town in New England and just cook at some touristy seafood place. We'll see. I'm definetly going to miss it. Definetly going to miss them.