Drunk and lost

So, visiting Evanston in '73, I take the El down to the N side to visit a girl I'd met at college... and some of her family... and the guy she was living with... awkward^3.

Which Is why, by the time her sister walked me back to the El, I was a wee bit intoxicated. Okay more than a wee bit. Nodding out on the train bit. (The tie-in, see?)

My 2nd time on public trans ever, right? Every stop, if I was conscious, the car I was in would stop where I couldn't see a sign to figure out where I was. When my blurry brain finally put the blurry signs and the inscrutible map together, I realized I was heading into deepest South Chicago.

I don't know what station it was where I finally got off to go back. I'm just glad it was deserted.

Luckier than I deserve.

BTW, the girl I went to visit? Forty years later, we are awaiting flour grandchildren...