My name is Interstate 57. I'm 63 years old. My birthplace is in the southwest section of Chicago, where all the villas are, and I am not married.
My father, I-94, told me, "You, my son, you will have all of the figgy pudding." He told me the story about how he was a mama's boy, always coming back to I-90... my grandmother, if you will. He seemed to take the less efficient route... seeing her join with prostitutes (toll roads) really upset him, even after their lovely time together in Wisconsin. "We tried to have you and I-55 sooner (further north, in Wisconsin)," he said, "but some... government agency in Illinois put a stop to it."
He said he had me because he was worried about my brother, who seemed more obsessed with going to Saint Louis than anything. He was worried about the beeline I-55 made, how it wasn't an effective way to go south, but told me about a wonderful place called Little Rock, the land of Bill Clinton, an epic saxophone player. I wanted to go there, so I started.
I was a bit nervous at first... the south side is scary. I'm pitted up by it to this day. I eventually got out of there, met a kind fellow named I-80, and continued southwest. He seemed like a jolly old guy... I heard from the grapevine that I-80 told I-94 about me, and that it was a very good goal, extraordinarily commendable.
I roamed south across Illinois, joined hands with I-70 and I-64 and sang koom-by-yah I guess, but... they weren't really my type. I-70 was the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I-64 was the most handsome, but... I don't know... I had one kid, I guess... I think it was from 64. I sent Interstate 24 to Florida. "Conquer the southeast for me," I told him as a little boy. "Go over the mountains and get me to Disney World!" I could tell my time was getting close. I couldn't do it myself... I barely even made it halfway to Little Rock!
The hills ended, and I hopped the Mississippi, like my father, mother, and the east-west friends I made along the way. I even made friends with US 60, we shared real estate for a bit.
In Sikeston, I met my brother. He killed me, but I took it. No children, no x5 glory, no major cities outside of Illinois... I had nothing. I told 60 to get to Little Rock for me... He said he might know a guy. I hope he was right.
