Personally, green is not my best color (unless of course, I'm feeling envious). I'm Italian and, until they come out with a darker color, look best in black. Still, St Patrick's Day in Chicago is an urban day trip to behold regardless of nationality or couture.
First, they dye the Chicago River green. Then, they get all the college kids who just turned 21 drunk. Then, all the drunk girls get their drunk boyfriends into fights with each other. Then, they all get on the Forest Glen Metra train for the sloppy ride home. And finally, they all sit next to me.
I love Chicago; especially when someone isn't trying to bite me as I'm walking down Wabash. Yes, it's true. As I was leaving Trump Tower with my wife, a girl painted green from hair to toenails (again, not my fave) stumbled out of a bar across the street and tried to bite me. "IT'S SAINT PATRICKS DAY!" she screamed at me, teeth showing like a vampire and fingers curled, ready to grab. I stepped to the left as she flew by, mouth open, as if to sink into a corned beef sandwich. She smelled a little boozey too, but then again, club soda is my social beverage of choice on such occasions.
'Somebody's poor daughter,' I thought to myself as she fell face first into the guy behind me who at first, didn't seem to mind. She was kind of cute in a pitiful sort of way. A half block later he let out a blood curdling scream of his own. She bit him, I'm sure, like a corned beef sammy. Either that, or she dumped his beer.
'What a waste of tuition,' was all I could conclude. And that shamrock green doesn't really look good on anyone---Irish, envious or otherwise.
Geno Petro
once again, iPhone photojournalism on the fly in Chi
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