Gasbags

Q: The readers of which publication are least likely to be interested in a story about saving gas?

A. RedEye, the commuter paper distributed near bus stops and El stations.

Auto Libre

Since Monday, I haven't had a car and it feels GREAT. I don't have to worry about Chicago's guerrilla street-cleaning-sign affixers, fellow garage parkers denting my doors with theirs or getting a new parking sticker. Next month, I won't worry about renewing my insurance or my registration. I will not soon worry about where I parked my car when I last used it four days ago. Red light cameras, speed traps on Lake Shore Drive and running parking meters are now crossed off my admittedly long list of things to worry about. If a shady mechanic makes up a list of malfunctions I'm not qualified to evaluate, they won't be about my car.

The money benefits aren't too bad either. Since I've been in law school, I haven't driven all that much, but I still fill up about once every 3 weeks. That's about $75 a month. Insurance is $100. My Chicago Sticker, neighborhood parking permit and registration come out to about $25 a month. Even without scheduled work like brakes, oil changes and the like, I'm $200 richer every month, which means I can take a cab to the supermarket every time I go and I still save money.

On the subject of cabs, even when I was driving, I had to take them a fair amount. Drinking and driving is a no-no, as is any form of airport parking.

But yet, there's always a caveat. This is the first time since the middle of college that I don't have a car. "Freedom of the open road" and all that. Where exactly is that open road? In college, I could get to an uncongested interstate in short order. My ancient station wagon was pretty much impervious to police radar guns, probably because no right minded trooper could imagine that 16-year-old clunker could even reach the speed limit, let alone exceed it. It was great to roll down the windows and crank the stereo all the way to the Pennsylvania state line and beyond. Here in Chicago, there is no open road. Fight your way to any interstate and it's more likely than not at any hour of the day to be congested. Even when there is some freedom to gain a little momentum, there's probably a toll booth. As for speed, those troopers had no trouble believing that my most recent car could go very fast - so I made sure it didn't.

Does not having my car make me less of an American, less of a man? Maybe, but if so, it makes me a far more relaxed commie-sissy.

Law school, explained

Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) shows us exactly what it's like to get called on in Con Law when you have absolutely no idea what's going on.

That pause is so pregnant, I think its water just broke.

Sixteen Ounces to Freedom

A beacon to the peoples of the world.

I had the interesting experience of spending my Fourth of July with, among others, about a half-dozen Europeans in the States for work. We ate corn on the cob, grilled burgers and brats, listened to violent, misogynist rap music and generally had an all-American afternoon.

But one thing really caught the attention of the Continentals: the red Solo cups. Very excited at the sight of disposable drinkware, the Yanks at this BBQ did the cultural exchange thing: we taught them flip cup.

Apparently, they don't sell large, brightly colored plastic cups in Europe, making them very noticeable in certain American college movies. Think about it: whenever anyone on an American college campus is having fun in the movies or on TV, they are surrounded by a sea of red or blue Solo cups. It turns out that the "red cup," as they call it, is a minor cultural touchstone.

As usual, I have a theory. By the time most Americans reach 21, they have been drinking for years at house parties, in dorm rooms or in dank frat basements. Once bars and clubs admit us, our drinking habits have largely been formed. Europeans, on the other hand, can go out to drink at a far younger age and thus never get the chance to entertain themselves with beer pong, flip cup and everything else that goes with drinking semi-incognito. That's why twentysomething Europeans are always impressed with our house parties and we're generally impressed with European bars and clubs.

Reclaiming the Spirit of '98

The bar is in less than a month. It's time for the crummiest, crammiest July ever. It's time to buckle down to the max. I just can't bring myself to commit to it yet - right now, I'm up to maybe 6 hours a day total (usually closer to 4) when I really need to be closer to 8. I don't think I'm alone

Why can't I do it to the max? What can the flagging bar review student do?

Aside from some rough patches here and there (clinic comes to mind), these last two years of law school haven't been all that tough. Yes, I studied diligently enough when finals came around, but mine were all self-scheduled, so I could work all day, but still get home at a reasonable hour. Before law school, my main job didn't require any all-nighters. My second job, as a tutor, involved a lot of driving, but after a while, not much thinking.

As for college, I was a Political Science major. And an Economics minor.

In fact, the last time I've really busted my balls is during my Junior year of high school, in 1997-8. Around April, things hit their apex. I was competing for an editorial board position on my high school newspaper (it was a weekly paper - a big deal, not to mention a time-sucker), studying for a bunch of AP tests, competing in a debate tournament. The month before, I was engrossed in the SATs. Add to that the fact that I was your average reckless teenager looking for a good time.

For three months, I got to school at 8:15 and worked until 12 or 1 a.m. When I wasn't in class, I was working in something or other. To be fair, there were a few half-hours now and then when I could hang out in the cafeteria and act like an idiot. But that was my right.

What did I do differently back then that allowed total immersion into what needed to be done?

- Caffeine. Back then, it was Pepsi. Lots of it. I started each day with a Big Gulp (I don't think they even make those any more), re-upped at lunch, took another pick-me-up after the last class and then sporadically as the evening wore on. Soda of any kind wasn't allowed at home, so I usually hid Pepsi in my room and drank it warm if I couldn't get to the kitchen for ice without any questions as to why I had no liquid in my glass. I may have been a bit hard to handle when I was really buzzed on the coffee and sugar, but it meant no after-class naps.

These days, I'm more of a coffee person, but like any real grown-up, I can't drink any after a certain hour without my sleep suffering. After months of advertising bombardment, I've tried 5 Hour Energy (less of a drink, more like a sip!). It's good for partying (remember partying?) but doesn't seem to keep me going during the day.

There's always trucker speed.


- Diet and Exercise. I'm miles ahead of 16-year-old me. I go to the gym regularly and, to a large extent, watch what I eat. Back then, lunch was usually a huge sandwich from an Italian deli, a giant slice of pizza (if I felt ambitious, Sicilian with extra cheese) or mozzarella sticks from the cafeteria. Unlike your average sandwich chain, those sandwiches had huge quantities of meat not weighed out on a scale and would now leave me passed out in my chair an hour after eating one. I could try eating like a pig for the next month and not exercising, but common sense leads me to believe that I could eat more a decade ago with less resulting sluggishness and unsightly wait gain.

- Variety. This morning, I was studying for the bar. This afternoon, I'll be studying for the bar. Tonight, ditto. Back then, I had five subjects in school and two big extracurriculars. Get bored with one? Try another until you get bored of that - there would be plenty of everything else to work on. Unless I treat Torts and Criminal Procedure as completely different subjects, I'm outta luck here.

- The Internet. Back then, there were no blogs, no social networking and no Flickr - the only non-static sites were newspapers and sports sites. Going from link to link on static pages gets old a lot faster than checking up on your 23 favorite blogs. Maybe I should resolve to only visit sites in existence back then. Hamster Dance anyone?

- I needed to get into a college. I already have a firm job to set up - the bar is just a condition precedent that almost 100% of my school passes. The urgency, while very much here, isn't the same kind of "if I don't completely rock everything, I'm going to be making minimum wage until the day I die from a stray bullet walking to my tiny cold water flat in a horrible neighborhood" way.

- Conclusion. It's clear that I need to return to high school levels of productivity, but I can't do it by being a high schooler. A degree of maturity is required. Which means I'm screwed.

Light at the end of the tunnel, Part I

When this is all over, hot dogs the right way.

The price of gas is rising faster than the cost of oats

Good thing I learned how to drive a team of horses a couple of years ago.