Performer: The Stabilizers
Songwriters: Dave Christenson, Rich Nevens
Original Release: Tyranny
Year: 1986
Definitive Version: None
This has to be one of the
most obscure songs on this here list, certainly top three. The Stabilizers had
a career that lasted about as long as a mayfly’s life cycle. The only reason I
know this song is because Steve & Garry used to play it quite a bit in
1987. I liked it and taped it. (When Napster and iTunes came along more than a
decade later, I had Scott track this track down for me.)
During the time, as I
mentioned a long time ago, I was going with regularity to a Fifties bar in
Lincoln Park called Jukebox Saturday Night. Cindy, as was her wont, tried to
organize another office party there awhile after the time Sasha and I hooked
up, but not a lot of people were available. I was game—what else did I have to
do that night?
I took the L, and when I got
off at Fullerton, it started to sprinkle. By the time I got to Jukebox, it
began to rain for real.
Cindy and I danced a bit,
and I hung out long enough to have a few beers and get a good buzz on. (Back
then a couple beers was all that took.) It was starting to get late, and
tomorrow was a workday, so Cindy and I called it a night around 10, I think.
When we left, it was pouring. I could see out the windows, and it had been
raining hard the whole time we were at Jukebox.
Because I was 23, it hadn’t
occurred to me to bring an umbrella or jacket. The walk to the Fullerton L
wasn’t far. I ran as fast as I could, stopping under tall trees for a breather,
but I was pretty wet as I piled on to the L.
I don’t know whether it was
the exertion or the alcohol or both, but when I got on the train and slumped in
my bench seat, I fell asleep almost immediately. That’s not a good thing to do
when you’re on the L: You’re an easy target, and you don’t know who might come
up and hassle you. But, again, I was 23. All that concerned me was how tired
and buzzy I felt. So I passed out on the train.
Howard—my stop—is the last
stop on the red line, which wasn’t color-coded back then. I suppose I could
relax, because I didn’t need to pay attention to where I was getting off. I’d
get off when the train stopped. I must have slept the entire way, because the
next thing I remember, the train was stopped, the doors were open, and I was
the only one on the train.
And it still was pouring. By
pouring I mean like someone turned on not a shower but millions of faucets. I
had never seen a rain that was this hard and lasted for this long before. The
only time I saw anything approach this was during a thunderstorm, but even
then, the rain doesn’t come down in sheets for this long. On this night, there
was no wind, and I don’t remember any lightning either. It was just water,
water, everywhere.
Well, the run to the
Fullerton L wasn’t a big deal, but the route home from the Howard stop was
going to be a chore. First, it was much longer. Second, it was wide open—no
trees to partially block the rain. Third, it wasn’t the best neighborhood to be
in at night, but given the weather, I was the least concerned about that
aspect.
I still was a bit tipsy when
I pushed out of the station sprinting for the first doorway I could find that
might provide a respite. I stopped for a breather, then made my way to the next
one. I don’t know why I bothered, because I was completely drenched by the time
I was a quarter of the way home. It took awhile, but I finally completed the
milelong walk/run home. The rain hadn’t let up the entire time.
I went into my bathroom to
dry off, and it was only then that I realized I didn’t have my glasses. When I
hiked to the Fullerton L, it was raining hard enough that my glasses got
streaked like a windshield with no wipers. I could see more clearly if I took
them off. When I got off the train at Howard, I put my glasses in my shirt
pocket. When I took my shirt off, they were no longer in the pocket. They must
have fallen out somewhere along the way. Oh crap!
I had a backup pair, true,
but they were a backup pair for a reason—they were 6 months old. They wouldn’t
be good enough to read anything on a computer screen. I had to have my lost
glasses, so there was only one solution, even though it was close to midnight,
and I had to be up for my YMCA gig downtown at 6 the next morning—I had to go
back out into the monsoon and look for my glasses. I changed into dry clothes,
put on my backup pair, grabbed an umbrella and a flashlight, jumped in my car
and headed out.
Considering my condition
earlier in the evening—tipsy enough to have passed out on the L—going out in my
car might not have been the best idea, but I was fine. I really was. I think
from the running and the rain, I had burned up all the alcohol in my system
(and there wasn’t much anyway). I felt fine and alert. Besides I wasn’t going
to drive far.
I went down Howard close to
the station and parked on the side of the road. No one, and I mean no one, was
out that night. I put up my umbrella and shined my flashlight on the ground,
walking slowly. I would do this the whole route home if necessary. All the
while, the rain continued to fall.
Somehow, I found my glasses
almost right away—close to the Howard L stop. Apparently, they bounced out of
my shirt pocket almost right away, and in my tipsiness, I didn’t notice. They
were just sitting on the sidewalk, and they seemed to be fine—intact, no scratches
on the lenses. No one had been out, so no one stepped on them or took them.
What a break. I climbed into bed feeling I really dodged a bullet.
When I awoke, it still was
raining—not as hard and heavy as the last night but still steady. I turned on the
Loop, to Johnny B’s show, as I sometimes did (I wasn’t as much of a fan of
his), and people were calling in saying the Kennedy and Eisenwhower were shut
down; they were swimming in the pudles under the viaducts. No one was able to
get to work. I shut off the radio and went to work.
The L was running—It was the
L, as in elevated—even though a puddle the size of Lake Michigan had formed
INSIDE the Howard station. It didn’t stop raining until long after I arrived at
work to find I had been about the only one there. The office wasn’t closed, but
anyone who couldn’t take public transportation couldn’t make it. Chicago
essentially had been shut down.
The final tally was 9.35
inches in less than 12 hours—a record that might never be approached. I
remember that people were saying that if it had been snow, we would have had 9
FEET of snow, which is ridiculous. The snow couldn’t possibly fall as fast and
heavy in the same amount of time. But it was a staggering total.
A month ago, we had a huge
rain in Chicago that shut down the Edens and Ike and caused large amounts of
flooding in the area. I was an hour late to work and got there only because I
took the train. It was a mess, but at least I didn’t lose my glasses this time.
The rain in that 24-hour period: a mere 5 inches.
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