The Adventure Concludes... Where Faquowe?

Immediately upon exiting the underground parking structure we were faced with a decision: Should we turn right and go back the way we came or go left? The highway sign pointing to the left indicated that highway 90 was that way and that was the first number on our directions. George chose left.

Later on, this moment would be referred to as mistake number one.

We drove through some unattractive city streets and George immediately began second guessing his decision. We were still seeing 90 signs and considered this a good thing. A few blocks later we were directed onto the skyway for 90. There were no direction options at this point; we could either get on the skyway or not. We did.

Turned around as I was, I wasn’t sure which direction we were now headed in. It didn’t feel right but I put it down to the tollway structure that I’d long found confusing in Illinois. We soon paid the $3 skyway toll (robbery!) and were off.

It didn’t take long before we passed a sign that read ‘Welcome to Indiana’. Wha?

Evidently Indiana has a tollway as well as we were soon encouraged to pay fifty cents for the privilege of using their roads. At that booth we double checked our math. ‘This may be a dumb question but is this Indiana?’ It was. We were heading East instead of West. Easily fixed, we’d just turn around at the next exit and head back.

One of the problems that I have with the Illinois tollway is that it doesn’t like to have ‘matching’ ramps. By that I mean that the ratio between entrance and exit ramps is not 1:1. Through most of Wisconsin it is a 1:1 ratio so you know that, if you exit the freeway, you can easily get back on it, even in the opposite direction if you like. Illinois is not like that. Neither is the chunk of Indiana that we got to see. All exit ramps but no on ramps to be seen. We kept driving.

George was now noticeably uncomfortable. Part of this was us being turned around but most of it was because Amy was now very late for her fun. We’d stayed at the museum longer than expected and now we were lost in Indiana. Amy should already be there relaxing!

After another aborted attempt to exit the highway, George pulled onto the shoulder, eyeing a gap in the barrier between the Eastbound and Westbound lanes. ‘What are you going to do?’ Amy asked, concern in her voice. I knew that tone, polite as it was delivered. It is not an actual request for information. Amy knew exactly what he planned to do, as I did. That tone is meant to question the action that everybody knows is to be taken.

‘Let’s not question it,’ I noted as George grumbled a ‘Nevermind’. ‘The worst thing that can happen is that we get caught and, at this point, I’ll help pay the ticket.’ One illegal U-turn later and we were finally Westbound and down. Of course, that also meant we had to pay the tolls again so our getting turned around cost us $7 in funds and about a half-hour of time.

The boys were distracted with the movie playing through the DVD player and the toys they’d gotten in the gift shop. They expressed their concerns briefly over the situation but left us alone when we said everything would be okay. Kara had fallen asleep before we’d even made the skyway, a fact made known to us after George had quoted Simpsons with a loud ‘So long stink town!’ as we got on the skyway and gotten yelled at for it. Kara had been far over tired and needed the sleep. Good for her.

90 took us through Downtown Chicago and the idiots that drive there. George grumbled at many of them and I joined his quiet chorus. Halfway through downtown, Kara awoke screaming, evidently from a bad dream. She refused to be calmed down but did stop screaming. Eventually. She would cry for a half-hour before she completely calmed down. George’s visible tension grew.

By the time she relaxed, we’d already followed the split of the highway to continue on 90. We could have still taken 94 and headed directly home but George was still expecting to deliver Amy to her fun. With Kara now out of sorts, Amy no longer had an interest in leaving us, considering it abandoning her daughter. We reasoned that (1), we’d already made the split and (2) we had lots of time yet before we reached that area. Kara should be asleep again by that time and we could make a final decision then. I don’t believe Amy had any intention of taking the opportunity if it did present itself but, since we were already on that road, there was no point in arguing.

90 was taking us to Rockford, a city that I’m unfortunately familiar with to a slight degree. I find it an unpleasant place but it was a familiar landmark. Of course, our directions had us intersecting with a highway 23 before we’d reach Rockford. The problem was that we didn’t know when that would happen. So onward we drove.

Another thing I dislike about the Illinesian tollway is the lack of quality signage. If you are on a major highway in Wisconsin, you get regular updates as to where you are and what’s near you. For instance, if you are on 94 heading west to Madison, every few miles will be a sign with an update listing the next couple exits, the distance to them and the distance remaining to Madison. It gives you a feeling of accomplishment and progress. You know you’re on the right road. Beyond knowing this was 90 to Rockford, we knew nothing. There were no ‘Rockford – so many miles left’ signs to give us a hint. There would be ‘highway whatever – 5 miles’ hints but that was the extent of it. On we drove.

Two issues started to present themselves. The van was getting low on gas. Not impossibly low on gas, not ‘about to run out’ low on gas, just ‘getting uncomfortable’ low on gas. It was also well after 19:00 and the children politely began to ask when dinner would be. Not clear on how far we had to drive before we reached the junction for 23, we tried to delay dinner until we were back in Wisconsin, or at least on 23. A number of the exits we passed weren’t promising on ramps to reenter the tollway anyway. On we drove.

We reached the junction to 20 and decided enough was enough. It was closing in on 20:00, we needed a break and food. George took the dare and pulled off the tollway. Thankfully, a gas station and a McDonalds were less than a block away, sitting right next to each other. I’m not a fan of McDonalds but, as I was suddenly very hungry, I decided to not care.

While George added gas to the tank, I visited the bathroom. Before I could leave, George met me at the door, noting it would be wise to check on our current location. Duh. We asked the very nice lady for some information in that regard and she was only too helpful, pointing at a map of Illinois to note where we were and where 23 was in relation. According to her, it was about ten minutes down the road. We discussed a few other routes to Wisconsin but all were back roads and that way led to truly being lost. We fueled up at the McDonalds and were off again.

Knowing we didn’t have far to go, George and I kept our eyes peeled for the sign to 23 but it was not forthcoming. We had to stop at yet another tollbooth which noted there was one more tollbooth between us at the state line. This seemed ominous to me. Amy began to question where 23 was but it had to be ahead of us yet as we’d seen no signs. Still, something didn’t feel right. On we drove.

We came to a city and passed through it. Something triggered in my head and I began scanning for landmarks. ‘I know where we are,’ I noted. ‘This is Rockford. I think we missed it.’ George argued against this; we’d both been searching and seen nothing for 23 so we couldn’t have missed it. Somehow, I knew we had. In fifteen minutes we’d be at the last tollbooth and about ten minutes after that we’d finally be back in Wisconsin.

And I was right.

I cheered gently as we returned to the ‘Motherland’ at 20:30ish. George quickly hopped onto 41 which would take us past Delavan and Lake Geneva. ‘How much longer until home?’ asked the boys. When I noted we had about an hour left, George grunted and muttered an expression that indicated he would be taking action to reduce that time significantly.

That’s when the fog rolled in. Deep thick heavy fog that forced George to slow down. A lesser man may have been forced to tears. George grumbled further and kept driving.

At this point, George was ever more focused on delivering Amy to her fun night out. Amy had been texting her friends, updating them with our situation, and had already told them not to expect her. George is not the sort to give up on a quest, especially when he feels like it owes someone but Kara was still awake. When asked if she’d be upset if mommy left, she replied in the affirmative. Grudgingly, George kept on driving.

We made it back to Compound 1.5 at 21:30. The ride had been three and a half hours, not really longer than the ride down to Chicago that morning when you think of it, but it felt longer. We stopped for longer periods of time on the way down so it didn’t feel like we were just in the van like we did on the way back.

It should be noted that Kara was still not tired. I made the mistake of stretching out on the floor and she starting climbing onto my chest and jumping off, landing far too close to my head for my own comfort. She giggled the whole time. She’s like that.

Anyway, the adventure was finally over, thirteen and a half hours after it began.