Saturday, April 21, 2007
Local Color
One of the fun things about living in Wrigleyville is that you get to watch drunk people misbehaving all Cubs season long. For instance, last August I observed an exceedingly intoxicated young man drop his pants and attempt to pee against the glass front door of a condo building, apparently believing he was in an alley. An elderly lady emerged from the building and began swatting at him with a broom. Undaunted, he simply fell over in the grass and peed himself. After that, it seemed difficult to trust his "I'm not as think as you drunk I am" t-shirt.
I'm reminded of this because last night on my way home I passed a gentleman who was contemplating a fire hydrant as though it might open up and give him all the secrets of life and the universe at any given moment. If I were a betting man I would say he sometime thereafter threw up on it, but of course wagering is a violation of God's law, so I won't speculate. I also passed a number of people "playing bags" or "cornholing" (dirty names for exceedingly Midwestern pastimes are awesome) on their sidewalks without much hope of coordination or success of any kind. Oh, and a girl whose boob had fallen out without her realizing it. It is going to be another fun summer.
One of the fun things about living in Wrigleyville is that you get to watch drunk people misbehaving all Cubs season long. For instance, last August I observed an exceedingly intoxicated young man drop his pants and attempt to pee against the glass front door of a condo building, apparently believing he was in an alley. An elderly lady emerged from the building and began swatting at him with a broom. Undaunted, he simply fell over in the grass and peed himself. After that, it seemed difficult to trust his "I'm not as think as you drunk I am" t-shirt.
I'm reminded of this because last night on my way home I passed a gentleman who was contemplating a fire hydrant as though it might open up and give him all the secrets of life and the universe at any given moment. If I were a betting man I would say he sometime thereafter threw up on it, but of course wagering is a violation of God's law, so I won't speculate. I also passed a number of people "playing bags" or "cornholing" (dirty names for exceedingly Midwestern pastimes are awesome) on their sidewalks without much hope of coordination or success of any kind. Oh, and a girl whose boob had fallen out without her realizing it. It is going to be another fun summer.
