Death Cab for Angie

After a night of carousing with some friends in Wicker Park Saturday night, a fellow Southside friend and I shared a cab home.

About two blocks into the ride, we ran into a melee spilling out of Paje onto Milwaukee Avenue. Our cab was stuck in a sea of patrons who apparently had too much Kool-Aid at this Southern-themed restaurant/club, and decided to start beating the shit out of one another.

"What is this bitch doing in the middle of the street? This meter is running. Fuck! GET OUT OF THE FUCKING STREET!"

My belligerent friend who I guess has seen Boyz in the the Hood one too many times, was not digging the hold-up. I had no where to go, and was kind of enjoying the riot so I listened to her tirade of expletives, giggling here and there.

Until I realized our window was down.

"Uh, Janel you might want to shut up." I said. Our cabbie was laughing his ass off.

"Fuck that. If this is the way I have to go down, then this is how I gotta go da-hownnn!" she said flailing about next to me.

Thankfully the cab got through and we were on our way. As the cab headed down Milwaukee, Janel and the cabbie were debating the merits of various killing methods. Somehow my friend morphed into Ice T during the course of the night.

"Shit, shooting is nothing. You don't even have to get close! Now stabbing, stabbing is something," she said.

The cab driver, probably reaching for his machete in the glove compartment heartily agreed.