What goes around...

Wrigley.

Surreal. More modern than my preconceptions had made it out to be -- at least compared to Fenway -- but you're there, and you see the whole point of the place, and you wonder why the Cubs can't win a damned World Series. Crazy the way people care in Chicago. And it's a good kind of caring, the kind you might call support, as opposed to the sheer maliciousness of sports fandom here in New York.

People in Chicago are nice. Not stop-and-talk-to-you-on-the-street nice, but nice, nice. A lack of pretense you won't see on the East Coast is what hooks you in. Went to sleep and woke up in a place I had only imagined. Calm. I liked Chicago, and I think I could live there.

And Wrigley for the weekend at the end of June.

"What do you wanna do?"

"Drink," I replied.

"Where?"

"Let's just walk around. I don't know where the fuck I'm goin'."

Stayed in the place long past when the crowds left for the afternoon, before the night crowd took possession. Dinner hour. Empty pub. Old Style on tap, and a big Queens drunk stapled to the bar, a long way from home.

"So where you guys from?" she asks, sliding another pint glass my way.

"New York."

"Oh yeah? How do you like Chicago?"

"I like it a lot. So freakin' clean around here."

"I love it here," she says. "Lived here my entire life, but I know lots of people who've moved here and never wanna go baaaak." The flat a.

"Don't blame 'em."

"So what do you do in New York?"

"He's a writer," interjects Phil. "Big time guy."

"Oh yeah? What do you write?"

"Nothin', really," I reply. "I have a blog that got pretty popular recently."

"What's it about?"

"I'm a bouncer at a nightclub in New York. I started a blog about the shit that happens to me at work, and it just kinda took off, and now it looks like I might get a book deal out of it."

"Wow," she said. "You have to give me the link to it before you leave. I've always thought about starting a blog of my own."

"You should. You get addicted, and if you're lucky, people'll see it, and you'll start getting some attention."

"Old Style?"

"Please."

"Here," she says. "Here's a pen. Write down the link to your blog. I really want to read it."

"You gonna start takin' my money anytime soon?"

"Nope," she says. "After all the assholes I've dealt with today, you guys are a pleasure."
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Hey,

I don't know if you remember me, but you were in Chicago back over the summer, and you and your friend wandered into my bar. I've been reading your blog for a while, and just wanted to say congratulations on your book deal. That's incredible.

I finally started a blog of my own, and I wanted to know what you think. Give it a read when you get the chance, okay?

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And it's good. A well-written, solid, commendable blog, from a terrific bartender in an amazing city that I can't wait to get back to one day. Check it out here.