Yes. I’m still alive. Really, I am.

I’m sifting through 60 pages of Social Security proposed legislation, history and deep background, preparing for the First Day on the Job tomorrow, during which I’ll be rubbing shoulders with the political elite and acting predictably like a youngster accompanying his fanny-packed mother and jean-shorted father on a family trip.

One month of stupidity breeds one month of pseudo-savvy political reporting… Isn’t that what they say, or did I just make that up? Don’t answer that.

Though I leave behind many good times and many friends in Sweet Old Chicago (Note: Not Sweet HOME Chicago), I’m excited and overwhelmed out here in Our Nation’s Capitol.

Last Thursday, I left behind the tranquility and warm arms of beautiful Northern Minnesota, and not coincidentally Fiancée™, and headed for the highly unknown and relatively daunting East Coast. Ahoy! For I have made it! Well, kind-of-not-really.

Instead of rambling on and on about the last month of my non-existence in BlogLand, which neither you nor I have the time or energy to hash through, let’s go straight into the 22-hour Odyssey which led me to Basement Apartment ™ in the East.

So, for you, my beloved seven readers, here’s a running diary covering 1250 miles of American Soil.

For simplicity’s sake, I’ll name it: Ohio Sucks.

Ohio Sucks, Day 1 (Indiana Sucks)

Thursday, June 16, 1235 p.m. --- Depart beautiful Northern Minnesota. Consumed: One unit Diet Coke.

130 p.m. --- First encounter with Road Construction, forcing a 25-minute delay – miniscule for the rest of the world, damn near catastrophic for a sparsely traveled country road. First bout with anger.

215 p.m. --- Meet with Pops in Western Minnesota for farewell lunch. Let’s just say it got a little dusty out there in the windswept Minnesota Prairie. Consumed: One unit Hamburger. One unit chips. One pickle. One Diet Pepsi.

400 p.m. --- After Dad loads me up with a bank bag full of singles and coins for TollRoad Hell, along with a bag full of Frosty’s Family Staples: Donuts, Beef Jerkey, Gum and Chips, I hit the road for Minneapolis.

415 p.m. --- Dammit. Forgot to get gas at Truck Stop Lunch Spot. Fill up. $23.50.

600 p.m. --- Arrive in Minneapolis to commence packing sequence. Consumed: One unit Aquafina Sparkling water. Note: Why in the Hell did it take so long for a large beverage company to come out with a good sparkling beverage? Yeah, San Pellegrino doesn’t count. It costs $3 and comes in glass… The world needs more $1 sparkling beverages in plastic cup-holder friendly bottles. Take note, Coca-Cola.

845 p.m. --- After picking up Dell computer from computer nerd shop (don’t even ask), and loading The Rig with various and sundry items, hit the road: Destination Chicago. I figure I’ll be rolling in around 3 a.m. Yuck.

1200 a.m. --- Growing tired. Need coffee. Fast. Interstate: Empty. Talk Radio: Vacant and horrible. Consumed: 1 unit Diet Coke. 1 Chocolate Donut. 1 piece of beef jerky. 1 unit water.

100 a.m. --- Pit stop in Madison. Two stations closed. Finally find open gas station in town. Terrible waste of time. Load up on coffee. Gas: $24.18.

230 a.m. --- Coffee rejuvenates the soul. Catch Second Wind. Now we’re rolling. Instead of pulling pit stop in Chicago, I blow through, deciding that the impending $40 hotel room is worth the extra 3 hours I’d waste on the Skyway in the morning. Hello, Goodbye Windy City. It was nice to see you again. Tolls paid ~$6.50. Consumed: Nearly two units coffee.

330 a.m. --- Nearly halfway through Indiana. Begin to fade again. Getting very tired. Sleepy… Talk radio escalates. Some crap about 9/11. What? Nearly delusional. Then, WHOA – big-time tanker accident in Westbound Tollroad, near South Bend. No less than 15 emergency vehicles. Flames and smoke still emitted from mangled truck. Reconsider going much further, but strangely energized by adrenaline-fueled reality check. Next exit please…

421 a.m. --- Cut losses. Pull off road in disgusting Elkhart, Ind. I think I threw up a little on myself when surveying this Hellhole. After three tries, settle on the rundown Ramada Inn. The price was right – only $39.99 a night (after some delusional 4 a.m. bickering, of course). Tim at the desk scares the shit out of me: razor thin, brown teeth, liver spots on arms, heavy lisp, severely overengaging. It’s like Tim fell from AIDS Purgatory and landed in the middle of Indiana. Not that I was too surprised... Consumed: One unit water. Tolls paid: ~$4.50.

430 a.m. --- For the fourth time, Tim assures me that he’s “really bored, so if there’s anything at ALL I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call me. Really, I’m just so bored tonight.” Alright Tim. Give me my goddamn key and stop talking to me. Right now. I’m serious.

440 a.m. --- I pulled The Rig to the side entrance of the building, making every effort to avoid further face-time with Liver-Spot-AIDS-Meth-mouth Tim. As I attempt to open the side door with my credit-card key, Tim appears behind me with a sudden: “Having trouble with the door?” AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!! I screamed as loud as I could and jumped as high as I have since high school. That bastard snuck up on me. You could imagine my terror as I heard Tim’s voice piercing the heavy 4 a.m. air, near a discreet side entrance of some shady freeway hotel in the middle of Indiana. If I’ve ever been near a heart attack, that must have been the time. I finally avoid Tim, and brush off one final “anything you need call me” comment, head directly to my room and double-deadbolt the door, still shaking from fear and loathing of Tim.

Day 2 tomorrow. For now, it’s off to bed… A fitting time to break, I suppose -- but at least not my ankle. (Ba Dump) Hopefully the nightmares will end.