Dagas Por Palabras: Chicago-Day 1

Well as promised (at least to myself), this past weekend was much different than the one previous. Friday I hopped on the MegaBus to Chicago. (My virgin MegaBus experience has provided me with enough material to write a scathing yet comedic novel. Let’s just say, I will think long and hard before I put myself through that hell again. The price is right, but man…ok, another time.) 8 hours later I arrived in downtown at Union Station. I couldn’t have been happier to have finally get off the bus and was anxious and somewhat nervous to see what lay ahead of me. The purpose of my trip to Chicago was a crust-punk festival called Apocolypticrust. Since the fest ran from 7pm to 2am each night, I wasn’t necessarily in a hurry to get there. I jumped on the blue line and made my way to Logan Square, where I met my homie Joe and two of his friends at a hipster joint. We threw back a few beers and conversed freely. A wide range of topics were covered. Those included but were not limited to: art, public transportation, pretentious food, and my favorite: the difficult task of achieving orgasm from a blow job. Joe said it best. “Okay, start by taking a muscle relaxer and plan on being down there for an hour or so. Hey, it takes a lot of work on both ends.” Indeed, it does. Quick stop at Joe’s place for a tour and I was off to the fest. His buddy was able to give me a ride which was nice, seeing as how I knew nothing about the neighborhood I was going into. My original plan was to bring my bike and get around that way but MegaBus allows no such thing. We found the place fairly easy. It is pretty much a straight 6 mile shot south of Joe’s place. I smiled as we pulled up and I recognized many faces from the TC. Since I was going Han Solo to this event it was relieving to have fellow Minneappletons around. Nobody that I know, of course, but people I could probably go to if I got in a jam. Some hardcore band was on when I walked in. They were asking “Who wants to sing?” and handing the mic around. Nice! I promptly ordered a Negro Modelo and a slice of pizza. This first night is sort of a blur. I was fairly road weary and there seemed to be no order as to which bands were playing. I tried to follow along on my set list sheet but it didn’t quite match up. Plus none of the bands introduced themselves. I was able to finally figure out some of it. Protestant from Milwaukee was rad. I’d like to see them again. I know I saw Catheter (Denver) and Wojczech (Germany) but I just don't know which was which. There was some major drama involving bouncers taking knives from people and not giving them back or giving back the wrong ones. I was thankful I hadn’t brought one. (Taking the advice of a friend, I left my blade back in MN.) Fuck it, I was tired and called for a cab. Two hours later, after several calls to two cab companies and just as I was about to ask strangers for help, a cab arrived. Wheew, just in time. I was told by the driver that “We don’t like to come over here if we don’t have to, so your call wasn’t necessarily a priority. I was actually hoping you’d find a different ride.” Great, between the bouncer telling me to “Watch out for Latin Kings” and this guy, I feel really good about being a white dude from out of state, standing on a corner in this neighborhood at 2:30 in the morning. On the ride back to Joe’s I saw many of the people that were at the fest, biking the same route we were taking. Dang. 20 dollars later I was missing Bubble-licious (my bike…It’s a color scheme thing) more than ever. Crashed hard and prepared to do it all over again the next day…