So as many Chicago residents know, the Southside Irish Parade takes place a week before the downtown St Patricks Day festivities. The Southside Parade is pretty much just another reason to get drunk on a Sunday. The problem with the parade is that it runs down Western and there is no good way to get there other then the METRA, which really isn't that convenient anyways. So this was our journey to the Southside.
I was up and in the shower that Sunday morning at 5:45 am. By 6:15 I was dressed, had a beer in my hand and had already had my first smoke of the day. Some more beers and 4 Irish Car Bombs later, we were heading out the door to make it to the METRA so we could get down to the southside. Heading down the sidewalk, we were pretty prepared for the day. There were four of us and we were armed with 5 flasks. The different booze of choice were Jose, Jamison, Captain Morgan Private Reserve, two filled with Jack Daniels. Not to mention a camelback filled with Irish coffee. We finally caught a cab after about 20 minutes and headed to the train station. Wouldn't you know our luck. We got to the train station about 3 minutes after the train had left and there wouldn't be another one for an hour. So we decided to cut our loses and head to the red line. But first a bathroom stop. Of course, being a man, I am waiting for the ladies to come out of the restroom so we can get going. Suddenly, the two of them burst out carrying a long gift bag and heading for the door. Little did I know that they had just found a $40 bottle of champagne in the bathroom and had decided that it would be best to come with us.
So on our red line trip, we passed the flasks and starting building up our already apparent buzzes. A quick cab ride and we are there, Southside Parade. But we had a few hours to kill so we walked around and drained the camelback. Then someone got the bright idea to pour the champagne into the camelback. But the problem is that the tube that you drink out of was now mixed with Irish coffee and champagne, someone was going to have the clear it. So being the team player that I am, I volunteered. This was not one of my greatest decisions. It was the weirdest taste I have ever experienced. I could taste baileys, whiskey, coffee, champagne and cigarette smoke. It was very interesting and I don't think I will be doing that again any time soon.
We waited in line for the bar for about an hour or so which was pretty uneventful. It was pretty much standing around smoking and drinking. But it was fun to watch the cops harassing everyone. Once we got into the bar is was pretty much par for the course. The place was packed. But we took over the music and played Avenged Sevenfold, Atreyu, Bullet for my Valentine and Dropkick Murphys. It was a good time, but it just wasn't over the top.
We left the bar and decided to check out some other places. But a friend of mine and I had to use the restroom a.k.a. the horrid porta johns around the parade route. So we waited in line for about a half hour, but to be honest it was probably the best part of the day. We stood there with complete strangers having a great time. Talking about setting pace times and reasoning with them that it was not a good idea for me to piss in the alley next to the porta potty and get my name on the sex offenders list for indecent exposure. We took pictures with them and pretty much got everyone else around us excited to go to the bathroom. It was a good time.
But When we met back up with our friends, we realized one of them was a little too drunk so we were going to head home. We walked over the the METRA stop and realized that the next train wasn't coming for another hour and a half. So we decided to catch a cab to the red line just like before and head home. So we started walking. Little did we know that there are no cabs on the southside. So we ended up walking about 3 and a half miles to the red line through a lot of neighborhoods that reminded me of Detroit. I don't mean that as an insult it is just the truth. After that nice long stroll, we finally got the train.
Once on the train, our very very drunk friend let us know that she was going to the "dark side", which means that she is going to pass out and pretty much be belligerent. What would you do in this situation? We decided to start giving her shots of tequila. And it worked, she was back with us in no time. So we started joking about getting her a Jose Cuervo IV so that she would always be a good little drunk. A guy sitting by us loved the idea and started chiming in comments about the tequila IV. We always seem to make friends where ever we go.
So after a long train ride and a short bus ride, I was sitting in my leather recliner ready to pass out. It was only 4:30 in the afternoon surprisingly. But it was a great nap. I slept in that ultra comfortable chair until 10 pm and then went and passed out in my bed until morning. Apparently it had been a long day.
But I fell asleep thinking of walking down the street talking with my fellow wanderers when we decided that we are going to take next year off. Two years in a row is enough for now.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Monday, March 3, 2008
Untitled: Less is More
So I usually start out a post by writing the title. This is strange because many good writers will tell you that they just start writing and when they have their thoughts typed out then they develop a title. I think that the "title-first" strategy that I have been using has worked pretty well to this point. But I am going to try it the other way today. Most of my posts in the past have all been written from a specific experience that I have had in my life. Some people have questioned me if these things actually do happen to me. I am proud to say that everything that is written in this blog is true. Sometimes I wish it wasn't all true, but it is. All the interesting things that have happened to me here in Chicago have been posted, for the most part.
I am the kind of person that does not view a trip, vacation or night at the bar with 100% satisfaction if there is not a story that came along with it. But some stories are not meant to be told. This is for many different reasons. I would never come on here and say anything about my work environment. I know that people from my office read this blog and if I have a problem I would let you know or just bottle it up inside and not say anything to anyone about it. I would also never use friends names or specific information about my life (i.e. my company name, where I live, friends names, what I look like, or even my own name). These are all things that are best left off of this site.
As the sole writer for this blog I have made mistakes in the past. I have written about things that I should have probably laid off. I have stated many things that could be taken different ways by different people. I am not a big fan of being politically correct so that means that somewhere down the line, I am most likely offending someone. I think that the world today is too politically correct. We are being judged for every word that comes out of our mouths or is spoken through the tips of our fingers. I think it is ridiculous.
But, there has been one post that I removed from this blog. I thought it was a misjudgement on my part to write it and therefore I deemed it necessary to remove it at the time. But now I wonder if I should have just left it. Technically there was no one hurt in the situation other then myself. I am not so insecure that I couldn't bear that situation. I just removed it because I didn't know how else to respond. If you were lucky enough to read that post, then you know exactly what I am talking about. But for those of you in the dark at the moment, I will give a short explanation. I had been on a failed date. I say failed even though the date itself went very well. She was an extremely attractive girl and definitely had one of the best personalities that I have met in Chicago. But it just wasn't there. I had written about the date itself and discussed what my hopes were. On the day of writing the post, I received word from her that it wasn't like that. And that she didn't know that's what my intentions were. At the time, I was embarrassed. I didn't know what to do. I knew that friends of mine had read the post and were waiting for the next piece of news to see what was the recent developements. But instead of news, I removed the post and ignored that I ever wrote it. I changed my blog for others. I didn't want to hear about it and I didn't know how to respond. So there is it. The mystery of the "ghost" post has been laid out.
As an amateur writer, I feel it is important to write for me, not for others. I whole heartedly enjoy writing these posts and sharing my ridiculous stories and experiences with all of you. Your comments back let me know that it is worth spending the time to write this out. But I also do this for myself. Stories are important to me. This is a way for me to document my life since moving to Chicago. This is a way for me to look back and see the past. I sit here shaking my head as I think about the day I removed that post. It was important. I put myself out there and even though I got shot right back down, I put myself out there. That is something I just don't do. I have a wall built up and I never lower it. But I did and that makes me think. If I still had that post I would re-post it immediately.
This has been a different style for me and to be completely honest again, I liked it. So many great writers out there would just put a blank sheet in front of them with a pencil and write down what was on there mind. I believe I have picked up this style from them and I sincerely appreciate it. Like I stated earlier, I usually write of a specific moment, not a specific mind frame. I hope you readers enjoy reading this post as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I am happy to share the inner workings of my mind with all of you and not just the booze that did me in or the smoke I just crushed in the ashtray. I would assume that I will be posting like this more often. But I must warn you, some of the things in my head aren't that pretty. If you read something that you don't like, just give it a couple days and give it another try.
One last thing left to do. Back to the top of this page to write a title.
I am the kind of person that does not view a trip, vacation or night at the bar with 100% satisfaction if there is not a story that came along with it. But some stories are not meant to be told. This is for many different reasons. I would never come on here and say anything about my work environment. I know that people from my office read this blog and if I have a problem I would let you know or just bottle it up inside and not say anything to anyone about it. I would also never use friends names or specific information about my life (i.e. my company name, where I live, friends names, what I look like, or even my own name). These are all things that are best left off of this site.
As the sole writer for this blog I have made mistakes in the past. I have written about things that I should have probably laid off. I have stated many things that could be taken different ways by different people. I am not a big fan of being politically correct so that means that somewhere down the line, I am most likely offending someone. I think that the world today is too politically correct. We are being judged for every word that comes out of our mouths or is spoken through the tips of our fingers. I think it is ridiculous.
But, there has been one post that I removed from this blog. I thought it was a misjudgement on my part to write it and therefore I deemed it necessary to remove it at the time. But now I wonder if I should have just left it. Technically there was no one hurt in the situation other then myself. I am not so insecure that I couldn't bear that situation. I just removed it because I didn't know how else to respond. If you were lucky enough to read that post, then you know exactly what I am talking about. But for those of you in the dark at the moment, I will give a short explanation. I had been on a failed date. I say failed even though the date itself went very well. She was an extremely attractive girl and definitely had one of the best personalities that I have met in Chicago. But it just wasn't there. I had written about the date itself and discussed what my hopes were. On the day of writing the post, I received word from her that it wasn't like that. And that she didn't know that's what my intentions were. At the time, I was embarrassed. I didn't know what to do. I knew that friends of mine had read the post and were waiting for the next piece of news to see what was the recent developements. But instead of news, I removed the post and ignored that I ever wrote it. I changed my blog for others. I didn't want to hear about it and I didn't know how to respond. So there is it. The mystery of the "ghost" post has been laid out.
As an amateur writer, I feel it is important to write for me, not for others. I whole heartedly enjoy writing these posts and sharing my ridiculous stories and experiences with all of you. Your comments back let me know that it is worth spending the time to write this out. But I also do this for myself. Stories are important to me. This is a way for me to document my life since moving to Chicago. This is a way for me to look back and see the past. I sit here shaking my head as I think about the day I removed that post. It was important. I put myself out there and even though I got shot right back down, I put myself out there. That is something I just don't do. I have a wall built up and I never lower it. But I did and that makes me think. If I still had that post I would re-post it immediately.
This has been a different style for me and to be completely honest again, I liked it. So many great writers out there would just put a blank sheet in front of them with a pencil and write down what was on there mind. I believe I have picked up this style from them and I sincerely appreciate it. Like I stated earlier, I usually write of a specific moment, not a specific mind frame. I hope you readers enjoy reading this post as much as I have enjoyed writing it. I am happy to share the inner workings of my mind with all of you and not just the booze that did me in or the smoke I just crushed in the ashtray. I would assume that I will be posting like this more often. But I must warn you, some of the things in my head aren't that pretty. If you read something that you don't like, just give it a couple days and give it another try.
One last thing left to do. Back to the top of this page to write a title.
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