July 4th, 2014 § permalink
Bob Marley’s “Is This Love” played in the garage.
It wasn’t a garage like on a house for a Civic when your high school son’s terrible punk band isn’t practicing. It was more like a truck loading area for a gray stone building at Monroe and Morgan.
And in this garage with the high doors pulled back to look onto a loading bay full of kegs and plants, shelves and shoppers. » Read the rest of this entry «
July 2nd, 2014 § permalink
In the hot summer sun, among the women walking around wearing rainbows and the occasional completely waxed man wearing nothing but skin-tight boxer briefs and a smile, the old man wore a suit. » Read the rest of this entry «
June 30th, 2014 § permalink
She was white, with a taut ponytail cinched with a “JUST DO IT” band. She wore a large men’s black T-shirt inside out. It hung like a dress over thin legs in shorts and full sleeves of sugar skull tattoos.
She just walked wrong, herky-jerky like an inexpertly operated marionette. She clomped into Room 100 when it was still holding traffic court, sliding in the seat next to me and my friend.
“Have they called S_____ yet?” she whispered. » Read the rest of this entry «
June 27th, 2014 § permalink
The sun shone that early summer afternoon as the masses streamed off the platform and a voice from the speakers above declared for the Nth to the Nth power time that “DUE TO THE WORLD CUP VIEWING PARTY IN DOWNTOWN CHICAGO, ALCOHOL AND GLASS BOTTLES WILL NOT BE PERMITTED ON METRA TRAINS ALL DAY.”
A handsome man stood in disbelief, a backpack at his feet, a dinged-up WBEZ pledge drive water bottle in his hand. Shocked. Stunned. Very good-looking in a comfortable sort of frumped-up sexy way. » Read the rest of this entry «
June 25th, 2014 § permalink
“My sister’s a cop! My sister’s a cop! My sister’s a cop!” he screamed in that way people in fights do, as if the other person just didn’t hear them the first time. “If you touch me, I’ll get you arrested!” » Read the rest of this entry «
June 23rd, 2014 § permalink
Night. Red Line nausea. No cabs. Streetlight walk down Fullerton. Mist. Drunken college students.
A voice behind me in the dark. » Read the rest of this entry «
June 20th, 2014 § permalink
At the top of the bar, nearly touching the ceiling, tacked to the wall just above and slightly covering a sign blaring the establishment’s Irish surname was a soccer scarf.
“THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES 1986 2013 SIR ALEX FERGUSON THE GREATEST MANAGER EVER,” the scarf’s embroidery blared, wedged between two faces of the famed Manchester United manager woven rather skillfully into the scarf.
Below the scarf and sign was a flat screen TV, one of several peppered around the place. On the screen, Cameroon and Croatia were 40 minutes into their World Cup match. Each TV had the match. Each TV had a cadre of fans, glaring happily at each screen, cheering, yelling or going “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh” as relevant. » Read the rest of this entry «
June 18th, 2014 § permalink
“I was thinking we would put you in here,” she said as we walked to a conference room on the 55th floor. “We’ve got this view, and-”
“Wow,” I said, stopping for a moment to gawk at the view. Lake, sky, clouds, boats, a few workers on top of the nearby Marina City. Through floor-to-ceiling windows, it was bright and vivid. Stunning.
The woman smiled kindly at me and started naming beverages. » Read the rest of this entry «
June 16th, 2014 § permalink
Two young women with rolling carts walked up at the O’Hare Blue Line station. They wore fresh smiles and gabbed happily in an Asian language I didn’t know.
“Does this go downtown? To the Forest Park?” one asked, pointing at the nearby car.
“Yes,” I said. “It does.”
Tag, I thought to myself as I lugged my own rolling cart two cars down. You’re it. » Read the rest of this entry «
June 13th, 2014 § permalink
The movie theater on Western makes you constantly feel you’re on a high school date.
It’s the same bright shiny posters-and-neon from when a movie was the only place you could feasibly go for a few hours in the dark with that girl from Spanish class or the one who asked a friend to ask a friend if you’re seeing anybody. » Read the rest of this entry «
