The Fabulous Fairytales of a S.I.D.!

Before I even begin with my first (of what is sure to be many) fabulous fairytales of a S.I.D., I must disclose the back story for this post's title. What, you might ask, is a S.I.D. To which I would kindly reply, "A S.I.D. is not a thing but rather a state of mind." Where did this state of mind originate? From my husband, of course. What many people don't realize about B is that he's remarkably witty, particularly when it comes to assigning nicknames. So, here's how it came to pass that I became notoriously known as S.I.D.

The origins of S.I.D. - As you know, we live in Chicago and have for the past three years. Since moving to the city, I have turned 25 (and then some). Most West Virginians know, at the age of 25, your drivers' license expires. Now, I am many things. I'm a talented writer, a proficient cook and a welcoming hostess. I can teach you how to throw a party in a lion's den like it's no bodies business. However, no one is perfect. And so, one of my many flaws, is that I'm a terrible driver. Now, had I been organized, I would have renewed my license long before it expired. But, that too is a flaw in my overall persona. And, that's how I ended up taking the Illinois driving test.

At this point in my life (2 years ago), since moving to Chicago, I had probably driven five times. All of these times were because B was either ill or not with me. Therefore, I was not only a terrible driver but I was a terrible driver who hadn't practiced in a very long time. That's a lethal combination. So, B decided I needed some lessons. Here's a news flash that everyone should know. YOU SHOULD NOT ALLOW YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER TO TRY AND TEACH YOU ANYTHING. After many tortuous parallel parking sessions, one fight where I threw a remote and more cuss words than anyone could imagine - we finally gave up. I decided maybe a license wasn't necessary. Maybe, in the land of unlimited public transportation, I didn't need it. And then, B did it. He nicknamed me S.I.D., which appropriately stood for State ID. Now at this point, you might wonder, how is that a state of mind? Well, think of the people who have State IDs rather than licenses. They're calamity Janes. We used to call it Griswold Syndrome in the Piccirillo household. Now, instead, it's the SIDs go to get Sammy's nails trimmed at Petsmart (and nearly cause a puppy riot in the process) or the SIDs celebrate Valentine's Day (and end up in two different cabs after one purse went missing). You see my point. We are not the Shermans, but the SIDs. [As a sidebar to this, I ended up taking the driving test, passing and not literally having a S.I.D. However, this nickname was much motivation towards that].

So, now that you understand the title (and I've written my second book) onto the first of the Fabulous Fairytales of a S.I.D. It'll otherwise be known as: Katie + Homeless Man + El = Disaster

Monday mornings are difficult for everyone. However, last Monday started an avalanche of a week that I thought would never come to an end.

The Chicago weather has recently improved. However, it definitely doesn't feel like spring. Last Monday, the whole city was a dingy wet sponge. Rain thundered down in spurts and the sky was a pewter gray. As a preface to this story, you should know that B and I call our bedrooms (both the master and the guest) the caves (see everything gets a nickname) because the loft setup doesn't provide any windows in that part of the house. Therefore, I rarely know the weather before I trot out the door (because checking would make too much sense). So on this gloomy Monday, I dashed out of my house in completely inappropriate weather attire (including leather platform heels). This is a S.I.D. move in and of itself ... but it gets better.

Despite my license, I still rarely drive. I definitely don't commute to work in the Jeep (as B takes the Green Monster - our nickname for the car - to work). So, off I go to the El stop. The rain coupled with the heels coupled with the fact that it was Monday were rapidly producing a salty mood and it would only get worse. Now, you must know that my purpose on public trans (hell - possibly my purpose in life) is to get a seat on the El. I don't have the balance that accompanies those who can stand on trains and my inappropriate footwear ensured I would spike several people in the foot. So, as usual, I elbow my way into a crowded El car. What I find is that there's one seat available. It's at the complete other end of the car. I can't wait for the next stop and the train starts moving. So I decide to launch myself in that direction - other passengers be damned. However, what I failed to do was survey the environment.

I have no idea why, but all homeless men and women have carts. I'm unsure where they get these deathly wire contraptions but I would like to put a city sanction in place to get rid of them. As I'm quickly crossing the train, in my search for the perfect seat, I don't notice a large homeless man with his cart in tow in the front row of seats. I definitely don't notice that the cart intercepts the aisle. I'm moving quickly now. Suspense and adrenaline are coursing through my veins. I imagine it's what an Olympic athlete feels like right before receiving gold ... as though all the pieces of a long awaited puzzle have fallen into place. And then it happens. The top of my foot catches on the cart and I go flying, face first down the aisle of the train. My heels (both the left and right) flail from my feet. My shirt ride up. My face smashes against a metal pole that people use to balance themselves on. My purse and it's content spills out. My cell phone cracks. My foot is cut and a pale green. The bruise wraps all the way around my toe and behind my heel.

The worst part - not one person helps dust me off, collect my belongings or hobble to the aforementioned seat. Moreover, the overweight guy who's occupying the adjacent seat takes up more than his 50% share. I imagine this is what the Olympic ice skater who falls on his/her face feels like ... literally.

And they all lived happily, hobbly and hatefully ever after. THE END!