Thursday, June 26, 2008

PSSSSSSSH-FUCK THE SOX!

Perhaps some expect me to brag/boast about the Cubs total AWESOME FUCKING SWEEP OF THE SOX this past weekend...but I'll take the classy route and say, "nice games gents...you got beat like a red-headed step child" but didn't complain nearly as much as your fans. Bravo!

Now, onto the deets (that I can recall) from Saturday Night spent in the West Loop RAWKIN' to the Drive-By-Truckers. In the interest of brevity, I'll dial it down to 3 incidents that are either A) unique to living in Chicago, and/or B) a sign I need to accept the fact that I am not as young as thought/think I was/am.

MarK and I arrived via bus at 6Pm or so and immediately sought out beers. In our travels we ran into a mutual friend from high school who by his own admission "drank at least 10 beers already".

Fuck. I should have abandoned his drunk ass but being a Virgo I decided to "babysit" (stupid sense of duty!) this 29 year old man so he didn't get arrested or beat up. And he did everything he could to do both.

Sensing the inevitable I decided to take him on a mini field trip to find me a flask of whiskey (this is my little tradition when I see the Drive-By-Truckers live).

A security guard pointed me in the direction of a bar off Lake Street. OMG - this bar was a fucking time capsule from the 1960's. Vintage Al Green was rocking from the speakers and the bartender (gorgeous woman) said:

Bartender: "What can I get you honey?"
Me: "...uh...(blushing) that flask of Jim Beam..."
Bartender: "...'dat all you want want...?
Me: "..."
Bartender: [swaying to old Stevie Wonder]: "..."
Me: "yes. Thanks...I need to tend to my drunk friend"

My dumb/drunk friend decided to hi-five EVERY girl on the way back, including a bunch of Chicago Cops (against my will/protestations). An hour later the Truckers took the stage and opened with "Let There Be Rock". I called it! Woot!

But after drinking a lot more beer (my friend MarK scored VIP access/unlimited beers) we left just before the Truckers exited stage left. Since neither of us drove, we took the Madison/#20 bus to Western Ave, meaning to get on the #49 bus. Which we did. But we got on the Southbound bus. UGH.

While MarK macked on some random girl I rested my eyes and was awaken approximately 30 minutes later by the automated CTA bus voice: [BING] "33rd and Western".

Me: "FUCK!"

We got off at 35th/Western/Pershing...AKA McKinley Park, which is not the best place to find yourself stranded at 2AM...especially if you're donning a Cubs hat.

Somehow, I managed to not get shot/stabbed/robbed which might suggest I can hold my own in rough hoods, or, more likely, the random gang-bangers that were present left me alone for whatever reason.

Finally, MarK and I caught a northbound bus around 3AM, got back to his place around 4AM, and had a smoke. We both passed out in various chairs...but an hour or so later I was awoken by the presence of another person.

Mark's Roomie let some drunk friend of his in and when I awoke about 6AM...dude wanted to drink and smoke a joint! The Fuck! I declined both offers, but I watched an episode of "Curb" and "Sopranos" with this stranger.

And we laughed, like the drunk fuckers we were/are...

4 comments:

The [Cherry] Ride said...

Cubs will never win the World Series.

Get used to it.

Anonymous said...

Wow, your developing nicely!

james said...

such a gracious winner.
(and yeah, why's it almost always the virgos that get stuck taking care of their drunkity friends?)

"william" said...

the southside is getting back at you... top of the 4th and your cubs are down 8 nothing... ooops sorry, does that hurt?