When John and I decided to take Gunnar downtown to see a friend sing at a choir concert on Michigan Ave, I had no idea we'd be encountering the Return of the Drunken Irish Mobs, which was quite apparent from the minute we stepped on the El. Immediately I was somewhat regretting this decision, or at least regretting the decision to bring my almost 4 month old on a train with profanity spewing, gravity challenged college students. While I was imagining having to clean up some stranger's vomit off of my baby's head with wet wipes, I was thankful we decided to tote him in on the baby bjorn. Having him close to daddy made it seem somewhat safer.
Gunnar was great during the choir concert and didn't make a peep (unless you count the gulping sounds and hiccups he had while I nursed him, which clearly embarrassed his father...but come on! It's not like he was crying!).
After the concert we walked the Magnificent Mile and witnessed more drunken debauchery than I cared to see. It's not that I don't enjoy a drink now and then, and I certainly enjoyed having a good time in my college years...it's just the falling down drunken stupidity in the middle of the day that I never really understood.
|They don't lie...they dye that river green!!|