That's a wonderful story.  I was at Marquette in Milwaukee in 1967.  A freshman.January.
      I was very depressed since I wasn't allowed to take any upper  division English courses,  I was allowed to audit a Shakespeare course  taught by a visiting professor from Oxford.  He asked the class if  anyone knew what "Flyting" was.  I did and told them.  He asked me to leave the class.  
     
In the hallway he explained since I was only auditing the course and hence afraid to take it for credit I should keep my trap shut.  I tried to explain but he went back to class taking Shakespeare with him.  I had a $450 Cashiers check and about 100 dollars in cash.  I
   went back to the dorm, packed everything in a duffel bag and walked to the bus station and bought a ticket for Chicago.  From there I would go to New Orleans and be a poet.  This was, I discover, Thursday January 26, 1967.
     Here:
         "Severe snowstorms are relatively frequent in Chicago compared to Miami, but infrequent compared to Buffalo and other points east. Chicago's snowstorm of the century occurred in the winter of 1967.  After unseasonably warm temperatures, snow started falling at 5:02 a.m. Thursday January 26. Snow continued to fall through Friday morning fora total accumulation of 23 inches, with drifts to 6 feet.  Cold weather and periodic snowfalls over the next  10 days created more havoc. Although trains continued to run, cars, buses   and planes didn't. Almost all schools, offices and other work places were  closed for several days. Commuters unable to reach home spent several nights camped out in downtown hotels, O'Hare International Airport and  stranded cars. The Department of Streets and Sanitation, which is responsible  for plowing streets, estimated that 75 million tons of snow fell on Chicago.  Some of it was sent south in empty railcars as a present to Florida children 
 who had never seen snow before.  Large numbers of fatalities are relatively uncommon  in winter storms, but 60 deaths were attributed to the storm--mostly heart  attacks from shoveling snow. 273 looters were arrested. One young girl  was killed while police were shooting at looters."
         I got off and made my way to the train station.  I tried to cash my check.  Banks were open but closing soon.  They looked at me with my long hair and duffel bag and sneered.  I made my way to Old Town and decided to find a flop house (all part of my new lifestyle).  I went into a record store and the owner offered to take me home with him.  Ha!  I was wary -- bought my Dylan and left.  I found a hotel of the sort Maurice the Bellboy might have worked in (Maurice from "Catcher in the Rye.")  Left my stuff there and wandered the streets feeling quite alive. Chatted with everyone.  Asked where I might cash my check.  Told anyone I  was off to New Orleans.  

    A guy shoveling snow thought I wanted to get  there to join the army and railed against "the fuckers in this fucking  town."  Night.  I was, more or less, lost but trying to get to the hotel when from a door below the sidewalk -- a barber shop below the pavement -- a hunchback walked out.  Looked at me -- and this is  absolutely true -- stared at me and said "In the Union of Soviet   Socialist Republics failure is dealt with harshly."
  Then he went back to the shop.  I didn't follow. Decided to return to  school.
  



       
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