In The Windy City

I'm writing this post from Hostel International in Chicago. I know what you're thinking: "A hostel? Really? Isn't that...you know, dangerous?" and believe me, I thought the same thing when I first found out. In reality though, this place is really pretty great. Sure, it's no Ritz Carleton; it's not even a Holiday Inn, but it is nice. We're staying in a room of six (three bunk beds) with our own bathroom and a little "kitchen" area. We left CCAD at ten-something and drove for three or four hours until our bladders demanded that we make a stop.
Lunch was an eleven dollar basket of breaded chicken bones and greasy fish nibblets at Popeye's. I've noticed that long bus trips, for no particular reason, give me headaches. I have an impossible time finding a comfortable position (a fact to which my friend Yoshi can certainly attest) and I bore very easily due to the fact that I cannot read or write (or indeed do anything that involves focusing attention on any one spot for more than a few minutes) without experiencing wave after wave of motion sickness. Needless to say, I was happy when the bus pulled up to Union Station to let us off.
We rode a train to the hostel, unloaded and turned right back around to go find some food. Being the poor college students we are, we ended up buying the cheapest things from a 711 two blocks from the hostel and heating them up back in our kitchen. The rest of the night has been spent chilling in the lobby, watching LOST and "When Harry Met Sally". Now I'm tired and going to head up to my small, crinkly, bunked bed and awake to greet the morning, here in the windy city.