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In 2009, Jon finally was able to escape college of DuPage to make his way to DePaul for seek a degree in Computer Science. It took him a while to get all his ducks in a row, but it is great that he’s moved on from CoD. I suspect CoD (like most community colleges) is a place where the lost and languishing demovated suffer from a crabs-in-a-pot environment.

I know he wanted to go to Northwestern or UIC instead, but a poor highschool career and technicalities kept him out of those colleges. Personally, I think DePaul is a fine school, and I know plenty of brilliant people who graduated from there. Infact might have headed there myself if I had researched my undergrad differently.

DePaul also has a virbant campus, both in the loop and in Lincoln Park, which I think suits Jon as a working adult. He spent his “college years” slacking off at home and CoD, and is already a professional, so the urban and city life is probably more suited than the traditional greek campus.

I think if tries, he’ll come around to it.

2009 was a spectacular year to get married.  I was invited to 5 weddings, but only 4 tooks place.  Still, only 3 really had any impact on me.

On the same weekend my grandma died, I tagged along with Jon as we drove around LA to visit his Marine friend John Burchardt.  Burchardt was a new recruit who had graduated bootcamp and was training in his specialty of field communication repair before being deployed.  He’s a formerly fat, grinning soilder who is the type of person you wouldn’t trust with your car, but would trust to follow into battle.

We met him at the wedding of Cantrell, another marine, by crashing it.  It was a backyard wedding, and the bridge was pregnant, but they welcomed Jon and I right away and insisted we start drinking.  I was the designated driver, and apparently the only sober person at the party.

Out of the blue, someone had purchased the bride and groom a surprise honeymoon suite at a hotel, so I chauffered them there in our rented Dodge Charger.  As a stranger, and on their special night, they were incredibly talkative and friendly.  There was no social veil dividing us because of our jobs, age, race, or even where we lived.

Perry’s wedding also had a ethnic twist to it, as he later revealed that just about everyone thought they stood out.  Aki’s friends thought everyone noticed they weren’t Americans, Ben and Chris thought everyone noticed they weren’t Asian, Aki’s parents thought everyone noticed they were the only Japanese, and the Lawrence Lab crew thought everyone noticed they were much older.  Silly in a way, as I’m sure nobody cared.  But as an aside, I’m glad that we live in a society where our biggest concern is being socially awkward at multi-cultural events.

In contrast to Cantrell’s wedding, Perry and Aki’s was superbly planned and executed.  It had finesse, and class without being lavish.  There’s so much I could go on about, but in the end it made me look forward to being married.  I was honored to be a groomsman though, and was overjoyed to even be invited.

Which is more than I can say for Brad Walker’s wedding, that was to take place in June this year.  We had fallen out of touch as middle school friends as he moved to Detroit to pursue a rap career.  His mom moved to the northern burbs where Brad eventually ended moving back in to, only after what I imagine is an intense rivalry with several prominent rappers and drug dealers.  I always cherished his friendship, but we no longer had anything in common.  His friends have cool rapper names and go around getting each other pregnant.  My friends have stupid names and spend most of their time buying more hard drive space.

Again I was commanded to be a groomsman, where Brad was to be wed to the mother of his daughter.  I was honestly happy for Brad, it seemed like the smart choice, and perhaps he had grown up.  He was previously married for about 3 months when he was 19.

I was wrong though.  A week before the wedding I met his sister on the train, where we chatted and I told her I was looking forward to the wedding.  I called Brad to chat, where he told me that the wedding was cancelled.  Apparently he had kicked his fiancé out of his mom’s house and had started dating the maid of honor who was also a single parent.

Disgusted at this Jerry Springer bullshit, AND that I had to call to find out the wedding was cancelled, AND the fact that Brad seemed more interested in continuing his retarded lifestyle than finding a job to support his daughter I ended up breaking off all contact with him.

It’ll be interesting to follow up with all three couples in 2010.  I’ve got a good notion, but I’ll leave the speculation for a later post.

The day held a lot of promise as we started out on the back end of our trip. I hosed the bugs off my jacket and we sprayed down the motorcycles with the hotel’s hose. It was a cold morning, but the cleansing was almost ritualistic.

If somehow we pleased the machine Gods, maybe they could get the CB77 home safely. They had protected me so far. Even the bike broke down, I was the best to ride it. I figured I would be safe. I’ve never dropped a bike or crashed. An achievement which I am proud of.

Lined up for sightseeing.

Today would be more weary travelling on the CB77, but each mile closer to home would be one less mile we’d have to come back if the bike broke down. I tried not to think of it as I resigned myself to riding the CB77 for the day. We were in good spirits, there was an amazing section of road that had been part of the plan since day 1. When researching our route, I found it mentioned on the internet in several places.

It’s called the Tunnel of Trees, and I wish I never heard of it.

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