Heat. Sweat. No air-conditioning. Any of these three phrases describe what ran through my head as I awoke on Jet’s couch Friday morning. Her apartment did not have nearly the same aura as the one in Louisville. I showered quickly and left to get some fresh air at a nearby Panera. My inbox was waiting for me with several messages, including one from Chad Nelson at Touch and Go Records. He wrote that Jeff Mueller wanted to meet at a place called Tuman’s on W. Chicago Ave. at 7:30 and I should respond with a confirmation. I e-mailed Chad back but as soon as I sent it my inbox lit up again with a note saying Chad was out of the office for the day and important inquiries were to be addressed to Miranda, who could be reached at phone number X.
I called Miranda and she knew exactly who I was and what I was calling in reference too, practically the moment she picked up the phone. She gave me the address and Jeff’s phone number, which I dialed immediately to make the chat official. I got his voice mail and left a brief message, then Jet and I drove to Evanston where we spent a few hours browsing through guitar stores, music stores and art stores.
At 4:30 she told me we were going to go eat with a girl named Amy that Jet works with twice a week. Amy was born in China and adopted by an American family after being found on the side of the road. The family didn’t know she was autistic when they adopted her. I was told she had very little verbal skills and would probably remain in her own world most of the time. Jet introduced me and Amy repeated my name a few times. “Evan,” she would say. When asked, she recited the names of almost every street we drove on, and understood that we were going to eat at Deluxe Diner, a total dive in God-knows-what neighborhood.
We sat down to order. Amy sat next to me and across from Jet. While we waited for our food Jet tried to get Amy to talk but she was staring off into space at something in the other dining room. She was mostly unresponsive from this point on for the rest of our meal. When the food arrived she ate very slowly. She did not talk at all. After I told her to eat a piece of chicken, Amy reached for my hand and peeled my fingers apart and placed her tiny hand inside of mine. She rubbed the hairs on my arm and the stubble on my face. She put her hand in mine and we bounced up and down. She laughed, but would not speak. When we dropped her off she said goodbye to me and I told her it was nice to meet her. By now it was almost 7 and time to meet Jeff.
Tuman’s is in a Polish neighborhood. We grabbed a table outside and when I saw Jeff approaching I recognized him from some old June of ’44 picture I’d seen. He sat down and we ordered some drinks, he instantly started smoking and didn’t seem to stop until the interview ended almost three hours later. We had a blast, talking about everything from his new baby Leo to his various jobs through the years and his time in Louisville (birth-’95) and then Chicago (’95-present). We spoke about the various projects he’s worked on and the area bands, he painted a great picture of both Louisville and Chicago, spending slightly more time talking about Chicago than Louisville, which I was glad to hear.
When the 2nd cassette tape ran out we decided 180 minutes was enough and he should get home to Leo. He asked what we were doing tomorrow, and when we told him we would be at Union Park for the Intonation Festival he told us that his print shop Dexterity Press was located right around the corner and we should visit. We made plans to do so, and before he left I snapped (one two) pictures for him. He told me to turn the flash on as bright as I could to confuse the rest of the now fully packed bar. After I fired away he left. It was then I noticed that he hadn’t paid his tab, and that I guess I would… unless we just bailed. Jet agreed we should and we simply got up and left. Suddenly Jeff rounded the corner after us.
“I just totally realized I stuck you guys with the bill.”
“Oh, wait. We just bailed, too.” I said.
“Oh really? Should we go back and pay or what?”
“I don’t know… don’tt think anyone noticed.”
“So we’re bailing?”
“Dude. Bail?”
“Alright! So… yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow and if they notice me and stop me on my way back I’ll just pay.”
We got in our car and drove around the city for a while, soaking in the nightlife. In the financial district we were passed by a speeding commuter train. We took Lower Wacker Drive beneath the city and came up on Lake Shore Drive. We sped along with the windows down and a cool breeze coming off the lake. Past Navy Pier and more as we made our way to Jet’s neighborhood. She told me she wanted to go to Borders to pick up a copy of Harry Potter at midnight. I had wanted to go to sleep but I relented and sat outside while she got her wristband and waited. I came inside once to take a picture of the freaks dresesd up. As I was outside, I received the phone call about the death of Michael Dahlquist.
