Trains, Theft, and Professional Drinkers

Once again, I made the pilgrimage to Chicago, holy Mecca of, uh, something Madison isn’t. After a brief stop in the ‘burbs to visit my sister’s family, Kyle and I took the train into the city. The ride made me wish I could take a train to the Twin Cities, Milwaukee, and down to Chicago. Then I wished I could take decent mass transit in Madison when we rode the el (is that how you abbreviate it?) over to Dave’s Neighborhood*. Dave was just finishing some Miracle on Ice documentary for what I suppose was the twelfth time. Then he, Kyle and I walked to some Irish Bar (voted best soccer bar in the US two years in a row, I guess) and had dinner. Jess, another college classmate, showed up in good spirits so the conversation was rather boisterous. Dave set the tone by ordering a second Guiness, so I had to keep up, which was definitely the theme of the night.

When Dave’s friend showed up, we went to the Wolves game. I bought the first round of . Of course I had to go back twice since they only allowed two to be bought at once. Thankfully, I had plenty of ones and quarters from the first trip, so the old foggie didn’t bitch a second time. I guess when Dave went back for the second round, the lady asked him where he got the beer he was finishing (no break for the liver, mind you) and he said his friend. Then she asked if he carded him. Can’t say that I did.

So the Wolves lost and we headed back into the city for karaoke. Kyle made it back after mauling his opponents in pool. He said he didn’t, but that’s his usual modesty. It wasn’t a busy night, so I managed to belt out about five songs. You know, my voice isn’t so bad when I’m drunk. I’m sure it’s a perception thing which explains why I sung the “Love Boat”, “Physical” (in a deutsches accent), "Ghost Busters" (courtesy of a blank screen), “Bohemian Rhapsody” (thanks to the help of other drunk patrons) and “King of the Road”. I did manage to pawn my last, and undrunken, pint off on Dave, proving that he is the Profession Drinker of Choice (tm) in the Chicagoland area. I did manage to feel ok the next morning. Kyle, well, he puked at a truck stop in South Beloit. Funny, “beloit” is the sound fluids make when hitting toilet water.

Anyway, the last bit “Theft” was that someone stole a bunch of cash and change at work. S/He even took thirty-five cents from one guy’s drawer. Our leading suspect seems to have fled, since the police couldn’t get a hold of him. The worst part is s/he stole our pop machine key, leaving all that syrupy goodness locked inside. Oh well.

Time to write a Kiosk history.


* I get this picture of a kid’s show where a surly thirty-something in a Wolves jersey walks into a bar and mixes, through twirls of bottles and shakers, a dry martini singing the Brady Bunch Theme.