Note: I know I’m behind on these. Been too busy to write. Observe.
The days seemed to be starting later and later. I wonder why?
We started the day intending to see the DaVinci Code, but that ended up being a bust, because Yahoo movies gave us bad information as to the location of the theater in Skokie which was showing the film. We couldnt get there in time, so we scrapped the idea and stopped for lunch at a local Johnny Rocket’s.
It was probably for the best anyway, because we had a big evening planned. After a quick stop off at a local Best Buy to pick up some new earbuds for my notebook, we hopped the “L” for a trip to Wrigleyville to scope out the bars around the ballpark.
Now, I’ve never been on the “L” before, so this was a new experience. People have always told me that if I ever moved to Chicago that I could use the trains to get around. Well, after using the train, I have to tell you, I’d really rather not. It’s terrible during the afternoon. You’re packed in their like sardines, and it is bumpy as all hell. I was in my wheelchair, and I was litterally leaving the ground. I didn’t know that it was possible to achieve weightlessness on public transit. I truly learn something new every day.
Not only that, it’s terribly time consuming. It takes an hour to get to Wrigleyville from the Harlem station by train. This also includes one transfer. It’s indeed quicker to drive, but they say the perk is that you don’t have to pay for parking. I’m not so sure its a perk, though, because after getting shaken around so badly for so long, I had to find a bathroom so bad that I was crying piss. Plus, the doors only stay one for like 20 seconds. I’d never make it in or out in time, it is sad that some places don´t have the basics structures they should have for those who are disabled, In my opinion checking a website such as www.terrylifts.co.uk/lifts/platform-stairlifts/portable-wheelchair/ is not that hard and the problem can be resolve very quickly, people should definitely care more about those who are disabled because they don’t know how hard it is to get to some places sometimes. I’d be track splatter.
Anyway, we went to this pretty cool place called Casey Moran’s to hang out with one of my friend Bryan’s buddies girlfriend, and some of HER friends. (Follow that?) Casey’s is a pretty cool place, but I think that’s mostly just due to where its located. It’s pretty much your standard modern Irish pub with a nice beer garden made of polycarbonate panels.
I wore my “I’m in it for the parking” T-shirt, and I got a *lot* of attention. It’s fun to make people laugh like that. Especially the girlies. What can I say? I’m a giant charisma reactor, yay me.
My only complaint about Casey Moran’s is the $5.25 price tag for a bottle of Bud or Miller Lite. That’s atrocious.
We were having a lot of fun, and then…things slowly and silently began to take a turn.
First, my sunglasses fell out of my collar and into sewage oblivion while I was using the porta-john in the beer garden. Disappointing, but things happen. I can take that in strise and move on.
Secondly, the friend we were hanging with, Lindsay, was getting progressively more drunk. She doesn’t get mean when she’s drunk, she just gets to be a bit obnoxious. Mainly, she’s one of those people who lives to text message. She wouldn’t put her stupid phone down, and when it finally died, she kept bitching “My phone is dead!” over and over again. I like Lindsay a lot, but I felt like stabbing her in the eye after a while.
Third, my buddy and I ordered some food. We hadn’t eaten anything in over 9 hours, and after that much drinking, some mini-burgers sounded good. We ordered four each. Lindsay and her friend Tina didn’t want anything, so all was good. Or so I thought.
When the food came, I gave one burger to Lindsay and Bryan gave one to Tina. Of course, they happily took them. I ate a couple of the burgers rather quickly because I was starving. Then I stopped to talk for a couple minutes. Then as I was blindly reaching down to my plate for my third burger, Bryan says, “Shit, dude. Look.”
When I wasnt looking, Lindsay had eaten my burger and somehow vaccumed up about half my fries. I didn’t really say anything, but it did piss me off. She’s not my girlfriend, but I would have given her the food or bought her some had she *asked*. I’m not like, all MAD or anything, but I just met her that night. It’s not nice to steal.
But…what’s done is done. Just wanted to tell the story.
As a side note, as all this was going on, Brian and I had a couple of girls actually walk away from us because we jokingly teased them about being Cubs fans. (It was Cubs/White Sox weekend, and everybody in the town goes insane. I’m not even a White Sox fan. I like sports as much as the next guy, but why get so upset? It’s a GAME you play with a BALL.
Fourth, Lindsey keeps chiming in and demanding that we go to a gentleman’s club in Bryan’s neighborhood called Admiral’s. We finally relent and take the hour train ride back. This is where things really start to take a dive.
We get there, and they won’t comp our cover. See, the norm is to comp a firefighter and one friend out of respect. The club refused beceause Bryan wasn’t a CITY firefighter. He’s a SUBURBIAN firefighter. I guess the burb boys aren’t as brave in the eyes of some of those in the city.
As it turns out…cover was $25 EACH. Normally we wouldnt do that, but the place was supposed to be pretty cool, and I was on vacation after all. Take one of the team. Just wait, it gets better.
So we get in there, and we try to order some beer. The waitress looks at us and says, “We dont serve alcohol here.”
We begrudgingly order a couple of diet cokes, and the waitress comes back with them and says, “Ten dollars.”
At this point the rage is truly beginning to build. I just rode on a pissy train for an hour and paid $30 for a Coca-Cola. Valuable drinking time was lost. I’m pissed off. We bolted from that place, to say the least. Lindsay is in deep, deep shit.
Fifth, we find this place called Teasers, which is another pub-type place, and they tell us they are open until 4am. At this point, its about 3:05. We order a couplr of brews, and five minutes later, the bartender yells, “LAST CALL!”
What? To hell with that. Last call shouldn’t be until 30 minutes prior to close at the earilest.
Fine. We order 2 more drinks each, so we at least have a pile in front of us. I consider myself a pro, having many frends in the bar business. I can work the system, dammit.
At 3:30, they start throwing people out. Literally yelling for people to “GET OUT!”
Alright. Let’s break this down. To be open til four, that means you have a four o’clock liqour license. If you advertide being open until four, that means you let people stay in the building until four, and then you start throwing them out.
I’m working on sucking my drinks down, and then somebody crosses the final line….effectively turning my “launch key”
One of the bouncers picks my walker up over his head and yells “HEY ANYBODY LOSE A WALKER!!?? (it was about two feet away from me, and had my $300 camera in its tote bag).
Yep. This big bald-headed asshole is holding my walker up like one of Ric Flair’s 16 world championships.
If I dont know you, you don’t manhandle my walker. Ladies and gentlemen…we have achieved liftoff! (Mark knows me well, I’m sure he can picture this).
Can you imagine anybody misplacing their motion aparatus?
I put my finger in his face and I say “HEY, YOU BIG, STUPID FUCK! THAT’S MINE! PUT IT DOWN **RIGHT NOW!!**
He quietly said “Oh shit. It’s yours?”, and slumped off.
We called it a night and left.
Thank God its over.
Drink Count: 13 Trip Count: 52