One of the “best” parts about living downtown is being located literally in the middle of all the events that we try to avoid. Chicago tourists have their own place in our hearts, which also happens to be the place where all the profanities live. It sounds insensitive, but you would understand if all you wanted to do was run your Saturday morning errands and to do them you had to fight drunk high schoolers screaming, “I’M NOT 21!!!!”
We woke up yesterday to a scene that was worse than we had imagined. Our entire panoramic view was covered with swarms of green, and it wasn’t the spring buds coming to life. The worst of the worst had woken up, put on every green garment they owned, and were now covering our neighborhood in what looked like a green human ant farm. To show our protest, we decided that the St. Patrick’s Day crowd was not going to stop us from having the day we had imagined. So, clad in black head to toe, we swam against the current of green to get our early morning Jamba Juice. As we sipped our Banana Berry (no boost) and Strawberry Whirl (caffeine boost, duh), we had somewhat of a movie moment. Were we the Grinches of Chicago holidays? Were our hearts, in fact, two sizes too small?
We couldn’t have that on our conscience, so we reluctantly embraced the holiday and visited the parade, the newly dyed green river and even had some day drinks…but we drew the line at the green attire. I can’t say our hearts grew two sizes yesterday, but I’d like to think we saved St. Patrick’s Day in our own way.