winded

Chicago wore me out but it was worth it. Sleep was at a premium and often got interrupted by random acts of hostility.

I like to think I left the city itself a little worn out, too, but I know I'm dreaming. Chicago's always ready for more.

It was the usual.

Drank in the bleachers.


Talked shit in the bars.

Witnessed middle-aged people swallowing each other's faces.

Greeted my two fellow members of the Unholy Trinity.

Saw the Cubs lose.


The mostly white bleacher crowd didn't care. They came to drink like they have for the last 90 years. A million Lee Elias can't put a stop to that.

Fukudome looked lonely and maybe a little bit regretful.

The view through the fence is really not all that good.

Our view from center was better.

Passed the hat, I mean cup.

Got two (ungloved) fingers on a BP homerun. My friend D (not pictured here) got the ball on the carom.

Ate five different meat products in two and a half days. And lots of that gross deep dish Chicago pizza.

But nothing tasted as good as this Western Omelet Sandwich (!) with hashbrowns, coke, and chocolate milkshake. Holy crap.

I had a bad experience on the El, and it makes a loud fucking racket, but it's so full of Chicago romance that I guess I like it.

I couldn't ask for a better group of friends. A lifetime ago, I showed up in Wisconsin raw and rude and they took me in anyway. Here we are, 20 years later, 18 kids between us, still able to insult each other with love.


Lots more pictures were taken but they're just dumb drunken bar pics and who needs that?