I guess it�s been a while.

We left Chicago around six on Tuesday night, unwittingly beating the bizarre snow patterns that would hit the city the next day. The plan was to stop over in IC and have a classic night out with Leah and Ransom. So we made the drive effortlessly, with our iPods and computers and cell phones keeping us entertained, and made good time, charged with the anticipatory energy that only a homeward trajectory before Thanksgiving can provide.

Our arrival in Iowa City was delayed by about an hour when, around about mile 270, the traffic came to an absolute stop, and a slew of emergency vehicles started racing past on the shoulder. I cringed. We probably sat there for about forty-five minutes, but I refused to complain because I was just grateful not to be the person involved in whatever accident had caused this back-up. So we passed the time by watching half a Saturday Night Live on my computer. When traffic started moving again and we drove past the scene, all we could really see was a bunch of trash strewn around the road: cardboard boxes, garbage bags, pieces of busted furniture, kids� toys. It�s like someone�s basement exploded on the highway. No blood, no mangled car parts.

I met Leah at the Deadwood and proceeded to drink several whiskey drinks. My brother and Ransom and Zeb joined us soon enough, fresh from the Arcade Fire show at Gabe�s. We proceeded to Ransom�s for �afties,� but not before buying 60 PBRs at Ajaxx. We commenced ta drinkin� in his tiny apartment, overjoyed to see Pat there, already dreaming up ways we could make Ransom do silly things. I told him to tuck in his shirt because it would look hilarious, and I was right. Zeb threw a full, unopened can of beer at Ransom�s chest. Just winged it, overhand and everything, and nailed him square in the chest.

And then, last night, onward to the traditional Wednesday-before-Thanksgiving at the Pub, except that as I get older, there are fewer and fewer people I recognize. The few people I did recognize last night were not old faces with whom I wanted to reconnect. I found myself biting my lip a lot and trying not to cry. But Sara and Hannah were there, and a few other entertaining blasts from the proverbial past. So my brother and I drank whiskey and played songs on the jukebox. I talked to Adam for a long while. He bought me a bottle of beer that slipped out of my hand and fell to the floor before I could start drinking it. I used my shoe to sweep the shards of glass under the booth.

And now it�s Thanksgiving Proper. All I�m saying is that Ransom and a few other friendships had better swoop into town soon. This is already surreal and difficult.

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