Chicago vs. New Orleans
I finally experienced the famous St. Patrick's Day in Chicago. I missed it last year because of baseball tryouts, but I remember travelling to meet my future fiance afterwards and being entertained while waiting for the El by all the drunks doing face-plants on the sidewalks below. Maybe I'm getting old, but I prefer to mark the day with a Guinness at a pub these days.
We rented a bus to take us to the renowned Chicago South Side Irish Parade. What a mistake. We ended up in a tin can full of cavemen and a leprechaun with extremely poor aim. And we were captive. To and especially from the parade, we shared this little space with immature, ill-mannered frat boys who thought they were the life of the party, but the only people who enjoyed their moronic presence were themselves.
After a long delay in the zoo otherwise known as our bus, we finally left about 45 minutes late. During the interim, some little punk, egged on by the baboons in the back of the bus pegged my fiance in the face with a bag of soda bread from point-blank range. Thankfully, he showed remorse by quickly exiting the bus. We later ran into him at the parade, and forgave him for his terrible aim.
The parade itself seemed nice. Firemen, police, bagpipers, bands and candy tossers all dressed up for the part waltzed down the parade route. Admittedly, we missed about 99% of the parade since we were inside an Irish bar for nearly the duration. Judging from the aftermath on the streets, it was a pretty family friendly affair. Though sometimes, I would hate to have a kid in that situation: "Mommy, why is that man running around without a shirt on when it's 25 degrees out?" "Mommy, why is that man sleeping on the sidewalk?" "Mommy, why does that man keep falling down?" "Mommy, why is that man throwing up in a trash can?"
Thankfully, I was none of the those guys, though a few extra beers would have helped me deal better with the retards on the bus ride back.
All in all, it was fun. Would I do it again? I'll probably stick with looking at the dyed river and drinking a nice frosty Guinness at my local pub. That's not to say that the night might not end with an Irish Car Bomb or two...
We rented a bus to take us to the renowned Chicago South Side Irish Parade. What a mistake. We ended up in a tin can full of cavemen and a leprechaun with extremely poor aim. And we were captive. To and especially from the parade, we shared this little space with immature, ill-mannered frat boys who thought they were the life of the party, but the only people who enjoyed their moronic presence were themselves.
After a long delay in the zoo otherwise known as our bus, we finally left about 45 minutes late. During the interim, some little punk, egged on by the baboons in the back of the bus pegged my fiance in the face with a bag of soda bread from point-blank range. Thankfully, he showed remorse by quickly exiting the bus. We later ran into him at the parade, and forgave him for his terrible aim.
The parade itself seemed nice. Firemen, police, bagpipers, bands and candy tossers all dressed up for the part waltzed down the parade route. Admittedly, we missed about 99% of the parade since we were inside an Irish bar for nearly the duration. Judging from the aftermath on the streets, it was a pretty family friendly affair. Though sometimes, I would hate to have a kid in that situation: "Mommy, why is that man running around without a shirt on when it's 25 degrees out?" "Mommy, why is that man sleeping on the sidewalk?" "Mommy, why does that man keep falling down?" "Mommy, why is that man throwing up in a trash can?"
Thankfully, I was none of the those guys, though a few extra beers would have helped me deal better with the retards on the bus ride back.
All in all, it was fun. Would I do it again? I'll probably stick with looking at the dyed river and drinking a nice frosty Guinness at my local pub. That's not to say that the night might not end with an Irish Car Bomb or two...
posted by Mike C | 8:26 PM
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