Do you remember that scene from Ferris Bueller's Day off when Matthew Broderick disappears and then when his friends find him, he's floating by in a parade?
Well yesterday in Greektown, the two troubled youths you see here with the red arrows kinda did just that. Perhaps I need to get out more, but it was one of the funniest fucking things I've ever seen.
Yesterday began ordinarily enough. I woke up, had a little coffee, and met Rusty to head to Grant Park to watch Maria (the troubled youth on the right) run in the Shamrock Shuffle. We collected our runner at the end of the race, went to Miller's for lunch and beers and met Bradley (troubled youth on the left) who has abstained from beer for like a year. This of course, inspired us to ply him with as beer as possible (or it at least inspired me.)
After lunch, it was off to Greektown to Dugan's where we were surprised to find the neighborhood abuzz with some sort of Greek celebration. Halsted was lined with Greeks and Greek enthusiasts, but our beloved Irish bar had plenty of seating near the big open windows and $8 pitchers. With a sunny, 70 degree day on top of this, one cannot ask for more, I think.
The boring parade started, and then stopped inexpicably like five minutes later.
"What in world would bring this parade to screeching a halt?" Bradley queried. We were super pissed because the Cook County Treasurer's truck was blocking our view of the Jesse White Tumblers, who completely rock.
"Those fuckers can fly!" Maria said. We could see their legs speeding through the sky over the top of stupid Dorothy Brown's vehicle. The parade started moving again, the next hour or so was a series of pitcher, cigarette, pitcher, moderately entertaining float with Greek goddesses and Spartans, pitcher, pitcher, cigarette. . . you get the idea, right?
Then things started to get interesting. I was finishing up in the powder room when I heard a freight train bust through the door.
It was Maria.
"I'M GOING TO BE IN THE PARADE!" She said, running into a stall with a blue shirt in her hand. She slammed the stall door behind her. I was like, ok, whatever, shrugged my shoulders and went back to our table. Bradley was no where to be found as well.
Rusty, a lovely Irish gal named Maureen, and I waited to see the above scene flash by. It was too much. I honestly thought that maybe they'd walk by, buried in a group of people but nope, there they were on a float, waving their Greek flags with a fevered passion for their new found heritage. Bradley said later he was waving and pointing at people saying, "I'm waving at you, yes you. I'm waving at YOU!"
I was never so proud to be a Chicagoan.