My Kind of Town

People always ask me why I love Chicago so much and I say it is for the seasons. Most people hate it here in December - March, but I love a crisp winter day. I love the bright sun and glistening snow. I love curling up on my couch with a good movie and fire going. I love sitting in a bar that is four doors from me, because it is too cold to go anywhere else. (I will admit the days when your eyes water and tears freeze to your face and your nose feels like it is going to fall off -- those days kind of stink, but you get through them and forget about them – until next time, of course).

Soon, you have survived the winter and it is the springtime and there is the hope of a new baseball season. (At least for the first few weeks). March Madness. The first day I can wear sandals. Things becoming green again.

Summer goes without saying. There is nothing better than summer in Chicago. Street fests. Baseball games. Beach Volleyball. Barbeques. Movies in the Park. A perfect summer evening, sitting on your porch hearing the sounds from Wrigley, drinking a beer with friends.

All of this transitions smoothly to the fall. And the beauty of the changing colors on the trees. And the first brisk day. And football. I love football. I love meeting on a Saturday and sitting in a bar watching all of the games with my friends. (Well, now that I am venturing out again and braving the world filled with ND haters). I love that an innocent afternoon of football becomes a ridiculously fun time with a Talon mascot, way too many “La Bomb-as,” a lot of Pirate talk and gumball roulette.

Of course, this past Saturday’s shenanigans could have more to do with my friends and less to do with Chicago, but given that I was in a neighborhood bar (although the bar was not too neighborly and will not solicit a return visit from us) with all of the people that I have met from my neighborhood, leads me to believe that Chicago had something to do with it.