It is a sad day. Well, it was a sad day a few days ago. I was sitting on my couch with this very laptop watching Fox News on TV. I had caught it at the very beginning of the program when they are running through the big stories that they will cover this hour. That is when I heard it, "after 31 years, the South Side Irish Parade is no more." My jaw dropped to the floor. I mean come on, I had just written a post about how the activities of that day made me feel better about everything going on right now. And now they want to take that away from me? Haven't we as a people suffered enough to help the banks and the auto industry keep their heads above water? Haven't we been punished enough by the highest sales tax in the Country? What about the fact that we have to just sit by and watch as every one of our politicians is found to be corrupt and fight till the very end while wasting the state's money? Or maybe the fact that the city is slowly leasing away pieces of itself to the extent that in 20 years, the city probably won't run any of the city?
Apparently this wasn't enough. Now the South Side Irish Parade is done. For those of you that have been to the parade before, you know how much fun it can be. Granted your in an area that cabs don't travel to and there is very little public transit to get you back when your tanked, its a good time if you plan it right. There are tons of people that come down to see the actual parade. They stand by the road and watch with their kids as the bagpipers and the floats go by. The kids smile and laugh as the leprechauns walk by and a Dalmatian sits on the fire truck. Parents take pictures of their kids enjoying the parade and shots of the crowds to give the future photo album some idea of the days events.
Earlier that morning, the Metra train stopped at 107th Street station. And their we were. The hundreds of thousands of drinkers that were coming down to support the South Side Irish Parade and the bars that surround it. We step off the train in slow motion, almost a montage of a clown car style exit. Crowds exiting the train all sporting green t-shirts, beads, hats, kilts, and everything else you can imagine. We make our way to Western Ave and start picking out where we will drink for the day. Many stop to get something to eat at a local restaurant or at least the closest Dunkin Donuts. The sidewalks are alive with sober and drunken activity. There are street vendors selling t-shirts and hats, parents are walking the route to figure out the best place to watch the parade pass, whole groups of friends stumble down the sidewalk towards their favorite bar, and other drinkers wait patiently in line for bars and entertain themselves by telling drinking stories from St Patrick's Day past.
They say that the attendance of the South Side Parade has gone from a small neighborhood celebration to a huge party of 300,000 people. Which is understandable if you have ever walked the sidewalks during the parade. This is a main reason that the Parade has been suspended indefinitely. The Parade and its audience have outgrown the neighborhood that tries to contain it. It is a sad fact that so many people enjoyed this event and that is the reason of its demise.
But none-the-less it is done. I have to say that I am torn. I am very sad that the South Side Irish Parade is gone. As a transplant from Michigan, this was one of the first Chicago events that I ever attended once I moved here. It was a great event for me. The first time that I got to go out with friends and enjoy something that is exclusively Chicago. It was great. The Committee that plans the parade has come out to say that they will be coming up with a more neighborhood style "alternative" set of events to replace the parade. But I will not attend these events. I want to remember the South Side Irish Parade the way it was.
Its over. Its done. I am just happy that I have been able to enjoy this landmark event for the last three years. It has been a pleasure and I want to thank all the members of the South Side Irish St Patrick's Day Parade Committee for all of their hard work over the years. It is especially sad for me though that this event is no more. As I mentioned in the opening paragraph, this is a very tough time for a lot of people. There are very few escapes for people to enjoy before they head home to their pile of bills and news stories that seem to take away all hope for the future. Its scary in today's world that the people have a hand in their pocket at all times to help struggling companies that are arguably to blame for their own problems and at the same time be stripped of the things that are family/friend traditions that help bring people together and just pain have some fun.
Thank you South Side Irish Parade for the memories and liver damage. You will not be forgotten.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Its the Little Successes
For those of you who know me, you know that I have been going through some tough times as of late. But I have always been a big believer in looking for those small successes in life to make it through. And I was thankful for a St Patty's Day success that made up just a little bit for all of that shit that has been happening lately.
As many other people my age in Chicago do around St Patty's Day do, we rounded up a group and went to the Southside Parade. There are many people that will not attempt this great feat. There are usually around 300,000 people that go to the Southside Parade and there are very limited ways to get back to the Northside from so far in the Southside. But we finally planned ahead and reserved a limo bus to bring us back. So with this planning, we had all morning to just have fun and not worry about the rest of the day.
We got down early and got in line for a bar called Dingers. Dingers isn't necessarily the most Irish of bars on the Southside, but we had been there before and it has always proved to be a good time. Once finally in the bar, we grabbed a table and got it going. They don't do normal pitchers in this place. They do these weird buckets of beer that prove to be very stackable. In usual fashion, another group saw that we had the will, drive and tolerance to drink the place out of beer. So they decided to issue a challenge. Build a pyramid of buckets to the ceiling, 12 buckets wide on the bottom row, and win Blackhawk tickets from the Budweiser guy on site. We of course accepted this challenge. I had some of my buddies in from out of town and they can drink more beer then I have ever seen a human being ingest.
So the buckets started building to the ceiling. There was about 4 beers in every bucket and, if you want to do the math, it takes 78 buckets so build to a peak. So slowly but surely we built. We drank and we drank. And then we drank, oh yeah and we drank some more. And then we used the bathroom so we could drink some more. One by one the buckets went up, and surprisingly the other team was keeping up. Lets paint the picture of this scene. Not one beer gets below half empty, so no one really knows the quantity of beer they are taking in. The tables around us are watching in awe every time we cheer as a bucket goes on the pyramid. And lets not forget those assholes in the crowd that just want to be dicks. These idiots would throw shit at the beer pyramid or just plain be the drunk douche bags that they were born to be.
We were at least half way through our beer pyramid, and a young lady came over looking for some beads. She walked over to a buddy of mine and started to show a little skin in the effort to earn said beads. Then this nasty looking, horrid wreck of a women threw a hand up and knocked over our entire beer pyramid. I had been drinking, so I was not pleased and many of us had choice words for this saboteur. And then she walked her tank ass back over to the other groups table. This waste of life was sent over because the other table couldn't handle getting out drank. There were beer buckets everywhere. Our morale was low and our blood alcohol content was high. But there was no way we were going to let these assholes show us up in a drinking competition. So we decided that we needed to rebuild. I really wish that we could have had someone there to videotape the rebuilding. Then I could cut up the tape and make it into a great montage. Most likely with a Dropkick Murphys song in the background.
The Wall-O-Beer was back up. And our livers were determined to beat these cheating D-Bags. We made sure that no one made it close to the pyramid. Unless we knew them, they were not trusted. We drank and a bucket goes up. And then another and another. Then we only needed one more bucket and we took the race. So we cheersed our beers, finished them, refilled and placed that last glorious bucket on top. Victory was ours.
We took a ton of pictures and met with Budweiser guy. The other table sent over the one nice guy from there team and he congratulated us. It was a glorious scene. We were proud of what we had accomplished and suddenly things didn't seem as bad as they did earlier. It was a success and we enjoyed every second of it.
But the experience had to come to an end. We needed to make our way over to the location to meet the limo. What to do with this glorious beer bucket pyramid? Should we leave it in honor of our victory? Should we allow others to take pictures with it and enjoy our success? The answer to NO. This is ours and when we leave, it leaves with us. It was an overwhelming feeling. Kind of like the scene in Fight Club when Ed Norton talks about how he wanted to destroy something beautiful.
We rounded up our people and our stuff. Everyone started heading out of the bar. I thanked the people around us and wished them all a great St Patty's Day. And with only my best beer drinkers by my side, I knocked down the entire pyramid. One swipe across the bottom of the pyramid and all 78 buckets went flying into the air and onto the floor. I gave the remnants of the beer pyramid a moment of silence. I bowed my head and thanked King Gambrinus, the Patron Saint of Beer, for such a great day. Then I walked to the other table that we had been competing with. I shook their nicer guys hands and said that we would be back next year to defend our title. Then I swiped at their pyramid and knocked the whole thing down. It was great. I know what your thinking, what a dick move that was. Why would you bother to do something like that? You had already won. And that's exactly why I didn't do it. Some of my buddies and I had contemplated doing it. But we are better then that. We showed what we had through our livers and not by trying to cheat.
I shook his hand, told him I would see him next year, looked the sabotage girl in the face and called her a bitch and walked out into the crowds.
As many other people my age in Chicago do around St Patty's Day do, we rounded up a group and went to the Southside Parade. There are many people that will not attempt this great feat. There are usually around 300,000 people that go to the Southside Parade and there are very limited ways to get back to the Northside from so far in the Southside. But we finally planned ahead and reserved a limo bus to bring us back. So with this planning, we had all morning to just have fun and not worry about the rest of the day.
We got down early and got in line for a bar called Dingers. Dingers isn't necessarily the most Irish of bars on the Southside, but we had been there before and it has always proved to be a good time. Once finally in the bar, we grabbed a table and got it going. They don't do normal pitchers in this place. They do these weird buckets of beer that prove to be very stackable. In usual fashion, another group saw that we had the will, drive and tolerance to drink the place out of beer. So they decided to issue a challenge. Build a pyramid of buckets to the ceiling, 12 buckets wide on the bottom row, and win Blackhawk tickets from the Budweiser guy on site. We of course accepted this challenge. I had some of my buddies in from out of town and they can drink more beer then I have ever seen a human being ingest.
So the buckets started building to the ceiling. There was about 4 beers in every bucket and, if you want to do the math, it takes 78 buckets so build to a peak. So slowly but surely we built. We drank and we drank. And then we drank, oh yeah and we drank some more. And then we used the bathroom so we could drink some more. One by one the buckets went up, and surprisingly the other team was keeping up. Lets paint the picture of this scene. Not one beer gets below half empty, so no one really knows the quantity of beer they are taking in. The tables around us are watching in awe every time we cheer as a bucket goes on the pyramid. And lets not forget those assholes in the crowd that just want to be dicks. These idiots would throw shit at the beer pyramid or just plain be the drunk douche bags that they were born to be.
We were at least half way through our beer pyramid, and a young lady came over looking for some beads. She walked over to a buddy of mine and started to show a little skin in the effort to earn said beads. Then this nasty looking, horrid wreck of a women threw a hand up and knocked over our entire beer pyramid. I had been drinking, so I was not pleased and many of us had choice words for this saboteur. And then she walked her tank ass back over to the other groups table. This waste of life was sent over because the other table couldn't handle getting out drank. There were beer buckets everywhere. Our morale was low and our blood alcohol content was high. But there was no way we were going to let these assholes show us up in a drinking competition. So we decided that we needed to rebuild. I really wish that we could have had someone there to videotape the rebuilding. Then I could cut up the tape and make it into a great montage. Most likely with a Dropkick Murphys song in the background.
The Wall-O-Beer was back up. And our livers were determined to beat these cheating D-Bags. We made sure that no one made it close to the pyramid. Unless we knew them, they were not trusted. We drank and a bucket goes up. And then another and another. Then we only needed one more bucket and we took the race. So we cheersed our beers, finished them, refilled and placed that last glorious bucket on top. Victory was ours.
We took a ton of pictures and met with Budweiser guy. The other table sent over the one nice guy from there team and he congratulated us. It was a glorious scene. We were proud of what we had accomplished and suddenly things didn't seem as bad as they did earlier. It was a success and we enjoyed every second of it.
But the experience had to come to an end. We needed to make our way over to the location to meet the limo. What to do with this glorious beer bucket pyramid? Should we leave it in honor of our victory? Should we allow others to take pictures with it and enjoy our success? The answer to NO. This is ours and when we leave, it leaves with us. It was an overwhelming feeling. Kind of like the scene in Fight Club when Ed Norton talks about how he wanted to destroy something beautiful.
We rounded up our people and our stuff. Everyone started heading out of the bar. I thanked the people around us and wished them all a great St Patty's Day. And with only my best beer drinkers by my side, I knocked down the entire pyramid. One swipe across the bottom of the pyramid and all 78 buckets went flying into the air and onto the floor. I gave the remnants of the beer pyramid a moment of silence. I bowed my head and thanked King Gambrinus, the Patron Saint of Beer, for such a great day. Then I walked to the other table that we had been competing with. I shook their nicer guys hands and said that we would be back next year to defend our title. Then I swiped at their pyramid and knocked the whole thing down. It was great. I know what your thinking, what a dick move that was. Why would you bother to do something like that? You had already won. And that's exactly why I didn't do it. Some of my buddies and I had contemplated doing it. But we are better then that. We showed what we had through our livers and not by trying to cheat.
I shook his hand, told him I would see him next year, looked the sabotage girl in the face and called her a bitch and walked out into the crowds.
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