2005-09-26 - 12:33 p.m.
My sister came to visit this weekend and on Friday she took us to a Cubs game. I don�t really get it; they�re a lousy team and yet they sell out every game. Meanwhile, the White Sox are a good team and can�t seem to even give their tickets away. They played the Astros, who are vying for the National League wild card slot with the Phillies. So the Cubs actually had the chance to spoil another team�s chances by winning (which they did).
Wrigley Field has the true old-school charm of Fenway Park or Yankee Stadium. Of course, since it�s been around since 1914, it has the old-school grime too. I know some purists balk at new ballparks built to look like old ones, but I think there�s definitely something to be said for a modicum of cleanliness.
Also accessibility. As we all know, they just didn�t have people with disabilities back in the day, so Wrigley was built with lots of unnavigable stairs and bleachers. However, they�ve done a pretty good job of retrofitting to make it somewhat manageable. There�s a pretty rock star disabled seating section behind home plate, only about ten rows back.
To get there a stadium attendant (fear of liability, I assume) pushes your chair up a very steep ramp and you take one of those lift thingies up a flight of stairs (it feels pretty Star Trek). Then the attendant wedges you into a row that was built unfortunately narrow. Okay, maybe it�s not the best arrangement, but they worked with what they had. I had to repeat the process to get to the bathroom midgame and the attendants didn�t blink. Plus, they�re pretty clutch seats (I joke with N. that I have MS just so I can get good tickets to sports games and pay half fare on the bus).
It was funny to see Nomar Garciaparra in a Cubs uniform. A former Red Sox great, he got traded to the Cubs when he started playing not-so-good. I guess not-so-good and the Cubs is a perfect fit. I think he walked once and popped out the rest of the time. Unfortunately I couldn�t see him doing his trademark superstitious fidgeting when he went up to bat. I think he has some routine to it (adjust his glove 4 times, twist his cap twice, touch his collar, close your eyes, tap your heels together three times, get back to Kansas), but it obviously hasn�t helped him much recently.
Peanuts are apparently quite popular at Wrigley. They even had people selling bootleg bags outside the stadium. As I�ve mentioned, I feel almost obliged to get peanuts at ballgames. I mean, the song says �peanuts and Cracker Jacks�. Plus shelling them to eat is a lengthy project; it can entertain you for the whole game. And you get to strew the shells all over. It�s like the thrill of being a litterbug, but actually you�re doing your duty as an American.
The foot-long wieners unfortunately had grilled onions on them, not chopped onions or sport peppers, which is a shame cause I wanted my sister to have the full Chicago-style hot dog experience. With all the other toppings though, they were quite messy and I managed to drip mustard all over my pants, making me look like some mentally-incapacitated guy who can�t keep himself clean. Ah well.
After the game we went for wine down the street and then went to dinner at the Improv Kitchen. This is like dinner theater, except for some reason the improv comedy performers are next door in a TV studio and you watch on a plasma screen at your table. There are mikes and cameras so they can see you and they solicit suggestions from specific tables. So the set up was a little weird, but it was very funny and N. was delighted.
We walked back home along North Clark at first, with all the bars and clubs. When we passed the seventh frat boy drunkenly bellowing and flailing his arms around, it made me very happy that we hadn�t chosen to live in Wrigleyville. I�m glad we heeded my friend�s advice that we would be surrounded by too! Much! Party! Dude! I mean, I guess that would be fine if I were 22, but I�m a little old for that now.
The next day we walked down Michigan Ave. along the Magnificent Mile, the high-end boutique area. My sister decided it was cooler in a way than New York�s Fifth Avenue. It�s far more well-landscaped (Fifth Ave. really doesn�t have street plantings at all) and people are just much nicer. This actually seems to be the case generally. N. pointed out that most of the people to whom she�d mentioned she just moved here said �Welcome to Chicago!� (Growing up in New York, we didn�t actually scope out newcomers to shake them down, but still.)
After dark, we got drinks on the 96th floor of the Hancock Tower. Our cocktails were expensive for out here, which is regular price for back East. It was pretty cloudy out, so we couldn�t get the full view over Illinois, Michigan, and Wisconsin. But N. and I kept giggling cause we were looking down at the city of Chicago, where we live!
We met the girl who saved me for dinner at a restaurant nearby. She recently got a promotion, so now she�s in charge of all the company�s airport book sales in the states of Illinois, Wisconsin, and Iowa. Or something. But I think that�s certainly at least worthy of dinner. Someday soon she�ll run the whole company like she deserves to.
Then we took the bus home and went to bed exhausted. Exhausted in Chicago; who ever would have thunk?
� 2005 Geoff Gladstone
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