Accidental Pride
My wife and I went to Three Floyds, a brewpub in Munster, Indiana on Saturday, with my family. It is surprisingly unpretentious for a place that serves up some of the highest rated brews in the United States, and the food was trumped only by the beer. I was driving and so had to responsibly sip a pale ale, but I behaved drunkenly to make up for it.
Sunday, ‘teh’ wife and I headed up to the north side of Chicago with a friend of ours. My wife had an appointment at the hair cutterytorium, which happened to be on Halsted.
I learned very quickly that the Pride parade was indeed happening that day.
Smelt of glitter, perfume and feather boas, and I was proud to be there.
We ducked into a restaurant to get away from the heat and the crowd, and it turned out to be a fantastic Mexican place with a gorgeous patio with a view onto the parade route. Surprisingly deserted. A few hours and refreshingly lime-filled Coronas later, it began to rain pretty heavily, which somehow made the experience even better. They had an ancient tree growing up right in the middle of the patio and it framed the low and gray clouds like only a bigass old tree can.
I felt bad for the sexy, gyrating cheerleaders who had to be sexy and gyrating in the rain. On the other hand, they didn’t have several layers of wet cotton making sweet, sweet love to their skin.
