We arrived fairly early, so we went in search of some Chicago dogs. We saw this sign and couldn’t resist, being a block away from Wrigley (The Cubs were in the middle of losing to the Mets that day).
The place was funny. The cats behind the counter were rude, which we were used to by now, but these guys were particularly rude. The dogs were good, Chicago style with tomatoes and onions and all that good stuff, but the best part was this crazy fool who was behind us. He had a skunk stripe dyed into his hair, a muscle shirt on and a don’t-fuck-with-me swagger as he walked.
With an extremely loud voice:
“Yeah, gimme the fucking works! I want all that shit on there! You have any margaritas? I want it fucking salty! No Margaritas? Dammit!”
The whole place was in stitches over this guy, probably a little drunk, and he didn’t even mind. He got his dog, which was over piled with toppings, probably because he was out-rudeing the guys behind the counter, and slammed his tray down on the table, making Larry Kim almost jump.
A table of three young women and one boy laughed at the sight of him shoving this monstrosity of a dog in his mouth.
“Ha! Fuck You!”, He said with a smile.
Agast, one of the young women says, “There’s children here!”
“Oh. You wanna make out?”
The whole place is dying at this point.
He devoured the dog and exited the building, shouting, “I’m a bull rider, you ladies like bull riders?” We could see him doing a little dance out the window as he walked away.
I love Chicago!
Postscript:
Damon played well. And I, for the first time of the tour, didn’t play a single wrong note. Well, I didn’t play at all actually, it was an acoustic set and there was no room in the van for the upright.
