Southside Chicago= WHOA

You may not know this, but the southside of Chicago is not a place you go unless you want to be mugged, robbed, held at gunpoint/shot or raped.

Unless it is the day of the Southside Irish Parade. Then everybody gets dressed up in the most ridiculous green garb on the face of the planet, and walking on the sidewalks with open beer cans in hand is completely ignored by the cops. Everybody is Irish (at least for the day) and watching the parade isn't so much the goal as getting "festive" and being "cheery."

Fast forward (because this could possibly be the LONGEST post ever, but as some of you don't understand the ins and outs of Chicago I will spare you the details) to the end of the parade, as we are walking back to our friend Tom's house, on the southside. Tom and I are walking together, and six of our other friends are walking about two blocks behind us. As we walk past an apartment complex on the sidewalk, a group of guys is walking toward us on the lawn, and they are obviously about to fight. This scares me frozen stiff, and Tom and I Iook in the direction they came, and notice a guy walking toward them with glistening blood spewing from his mouth, and I am sure he is swishing a few teeth around. Then we notice that he has a hammer in his hand, and is headed toward the brawl.

Insert panic here.

I cannot bear to see this, but also cannot look away. Tom (a Marine) starts to take off his backpack and take action, but I wouldn't let him. I'm still frozen, and as soon as punches are thrown, one guy makes contact with another's jaw, causing him to fall back into the brick building and slump down on his back with his legs at really awkward angles, and blood streaming from his mouth, completely knocked out. At this point, hammer guy still hasn't made a move, and Tom pushes me away from the fight- this was all about 10-15 feet away from us.

I begin with hysterical laughter, unable to process what is happening, and then begin to cry. I can't blame it on the beer, because I am no longer drunk, but I am also not a cryer. This just really got to me, and poor Tom had no idea what to do. Here he is, walking down a street in his childhood neighborhood, and I am full-force bawling (yes, that's how you spell it). He tried to comfort me by grabbing my hand with both of his and holding it up to his chest, and telling me I should be a Marine. My response?

"No. I wanna be a SEAL."

Fast forward again to our train ride home. I am half asleep and the train is absolutely packed to the brim with drunk parade-goers. My cell phone started to ring, and EVERYBODY started to sing along. And "sing" when you are drunk... well, you know what that translates to. About 15 minutes later, somebody started belting it out again, and was soon joined by the masses. The song?

"Take Me Home Country Roads."

Think about that for a bit.

Peace, love, and ponies.

"In Ireland the inevitable never happens and the unexpected constantly occurs."
-Sir John Pentland Mahaffy