Time to leave Austin

Wednesday was to be my last day in Austin for over a month. The day before, my last day as a courier, I fired my friend I was training because he was late. So I had about 24hrs to finish getting my shit together and maybe find someone to take my place downtown. My neighbor, Christopher Bejger, suggested his friend, Chavo. I had met Chavo a couple of times and he seemed like a good fit, so why not? Fifteen minutes after our conversation, Bejger calls me from Chavo's house, where he cannot get him out of bed. I bike over, peer into a crack in his window, and realize Chavo is probably lying dead in his bed. I rip a panel of his shanty, break in and walk into Chavo's room where his dog had shit everywhere. Apparently, Chavo had been dead for a couple of days. He lay in bed, on his back, with only his blue american apparel underwear on. He must have died in his sleep. Two hours later, detectives tell me they will probably not need to talk to me again, but I can't help feeling a little sketchy telling them that I'm leaving town the next day for a month.
It's so early driving to San Antonio in my mom's truck the next morning, I almost fall asleep at the wheel. She's crammed in the back with my bike and dog, Batman, while her friend, Mike, sits up front. We get to the train station and the ticket man tells me I am too late to check my bike. I almost cry as I explain the only reason I am catching the train in San Antonio and not Austin is because I need my bike. He gets me a tag and they load it without a box. I'm sure my bike will arrive in Chicago in pieces.
The train ride is by far the most cormfortable way to travel. Lots of leg room, a lounge, dressing rooms and a tiny store. My preferred way to travel now. I sleep the first 20hrs and then spend the next 14 reading, writing and texting.
I arrive in Chicago around 5pm. The first race of Superweek starts at 530, so I am focused on just getting to the race site where I can find the team I am to race with. Originally, I planned on catching a cab, but as we're exiting the train, the guy who sat in front of me interrupts his diatribe on the world to suggest I wait for rush hour to subside before I take a cab that far. This is Chicago.I decide me, my bike and luggage should be able to get anywhere with a little help and mass transit. I'm pointed to the Red Line, a subway line ending at 95th. I am going to 107th and Longwood, so worse comes to worse, it's a short cab ride. I walk about ten blocks and catch the subway. Once at 95th, an attendant in a booth eating pumpkin seeds tells me what bus will take me to 107th. The bus driver points me in the direction of Longwood, and 12 blocks later, I'm here.
My legs still ache from running with Kate on Wednesday. My neck is sore from walking so far with all my luggage. I get to share a sofa sleeper with Barry Lee, he's snoring right now. I haven't felt this excited in a while.
Special thanks goes out to Loren Dodsen for being such a good frined.