Sunday, May 31, 2009

Cubbies fans ahoy.

When we moved to Chicago, I was concerned about my baseball loyalty. Though my hometown team has always been and will remain the Angels, I've moved around this country enough to realize that it's a good idea to support the local team because 1) it's fun to go to games surrounded by fellow fans and 2) they're the only games you can get on TV. I've held temporary fan cards for the Marlins, the Padres, and the Rockies so far, and now we've moved to a dual-team city. I kind of figured I would just go with the White Sox, as my dad was raised on the south side, and that's the closest thing I have to a connection to either team. Also, I was a little leery about trying to shoehorn myself in with Cubs fans, a community of pain and disappointment that reaches back over five generations and 100 years. That's the kind of losing that's born, not made.

Then we moved to the north side. We're only three train stops north of Wrigley field, and I pass the ballpark every day on my way to and from work. If I'm sitting on the correct side of the train, I can look up and see whether the "W" or "L" flag is flying and know whether the Cubs won or lost during that day's game. The game is on in every bar you'll ever walk into, and you had damn well be ready to sit down and root, root, root for them Cubbies. It's kind of required by law, amirite?

So here we are, three months into living here, and we're Cubs fans. We made it to our first game at the Friendly Confines on Memorial Day. It was a bit chilly, but it didn't rain, and that's always a good day in Chicago. We started our day off by having a few beers at the Goose Island Brewery and the Cubby Bear, two of several dozen bars in Wrigleyville. We didn't even have time to hit up the other neighborhood icons, Murphy's Bleachers and Harry Caray's.

I am sorry to say the Cubs lost to the Pirates, but it was a high-scoring game and we had a great time eating peanuts and drinking Old Style. Mr. T led the crowd in singing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame." We had such fun with watching the scoreboard getting changed by hand, the train trundling past, and trying to figure out how long we had to decently wait before getting Cubs ballcaps.

This is the greatest city in the world.






City Life, Part 2

We recently enjoyed a delicious German meal at the Chicago Brauhaus.  After stuffing ourselves silly with bratwurst, schnitzel, plenty of sauerkraut, and a selection of German beers, we stumbled back to the bus stop and caught the 81 east back to our neck of the woods.  The bus was packed, so we barely managed to sidle our way back a few feet.  We made small talk with the lady we were squeezed up next to for the next ten minutes, as there's nothing much else to do when you're inches away from a perfect stranger.  She was very pleasant, and we had a few crowded-bus-related laughs before arriving at a stop that belonged to an old lady who was sitting down behind us.  

As we realized she needed to get off, we all started to shuffle around as best we could to accommodate her.  Despite the existence of roughly 435 people on this bus, this cranky old woman began berating us for our failure to create a suitable egress for her: 

"You know, if you would all just move towards the back, there would be room for everybody."

The three of us were kind enough to keep our fool mouths shut until she made her way off the bus.  Then we took another look around the sea of faces surrounding us and just about fell all over each other laughing. Best cranky lady ever.

Friday, May 15, 2009

City Life, Part 1

We just walked back home from the Bar on Buena*.  It's the best, laziest-titled bar/restaurant ever.  It's a bar.  It's on Buena Street.  It's the Bar on Buena.  Until two weeks ago, the Friday night barkeep knew our names.  He's left to manage a bar in the North Loop (it's called the Motel Bar, and word is that they do a mean Sidecar), so we'll have to get down there and check it out.

So anyway, we were walking back from this place, through the heart of multicultural and multi-socioeconomical Uptown.  We passed a crowded bus shelter, and a young lady emerged to tell us, "Y'all look like a Gap ad!  You look like a Gap ad!"  I glanced at my husband, and realized that we were wearing matching styles (but not colors) of $125 Marmot rain jackets.  There was no denying that we did, in fact, look like a Gap ad.  Very astute of the aforementioned young lady.

I started doing The Dance, which pretty much consisted of me throwing my hands in the air and waving them like I just didn't care, unless of course some corduroy pants or button-down shirts were about to go on sale, in which case I cared very much.  On account of being in a Gap ad.  The young lady was very entertained by my display, and Chris took some time out to tell me how I have a magical power.  Apparently, hobos are fascinated and entertained by me.  

*I love this place.  They have good beer.  It's the kind of thing where you can tell the barkeep, "I'm feeling kind of hoppy tonight," and he'll give you four choices.  Mmmm.  I enjoy drinking beer.