Carrie Bradshaw goes to Chicago streetfest

That's how I felt, like Carrie Bradshaw. I am not glamorous and when thinking of the most fashion conscious person they know, I do not appear first in the minds of my friends. Tonight, though, I felt like my resale store shoes were Jimmy Choos amid the freaky wierd get ups I saw on the oddest group of people I'd been surrounded by since that Renaissance festival I went to in the 80's.

I'm house sitting for a friend, who lives in one of the hippest neighborhoods of our city, two more friends are keeping me company. We're treating it like a vacation in our own city. We began with a bottle of wine at the house last night and then out for a couple martinis on a sidewalk patio. We ended the night eating cheddar cheese fries and char broiled hotdogs at the legendary Weiner Circle. Today started with brunch at a hip corner restauarant, my shoulders carry the color of the time it takes to eat lemon ricotta pancakes with a mimosa. We shopped in a bargain driven frenzie for two hours at a shoe outlet store where 7 pairs of shoes and a few more accessories were purchased between the three of us. Margaritas on another sidewalk (Nicole tried to order a white zinfandel and a martini but was scolded by the server for not recognizing the personality of the taco bar as one that would never serve such poor excuses for beverages).

In our new shoes and still rosy cheeks from the taco bar margaritas we headed out to see a favorite band of Dora's play at a local streetfest. I was bored by the description of the band before I ever even heard them. "Fun" and "happy" were used a lot. They were the kind of happy you see in couples that makes you wonder how miserable they are behind the smiles. What is wrong with this band...NO ONE is that happy. This guy has got to be a manic depressive. He frockiled on stage in his baggy blouse and floppy cowboy hat like Peter Pan. The people surrounding us were really odd, most wore flip flops, t shirts and other street fest t shirts. When I asked Nicole if she agreed that the crowd wa odd she said, "oh yea, streetfests always attract freaks. I don't know where they all are before they get here. I don't see people like this on a regular basis."
A young man in front of us danced his awkward ass off and the people with him held their hands above him as if giving him thier version of a dancer's high five. I imagined somewhere at a suburban home were his friends playing Dungeons and Dragons when one asks, "hey, where's Ben tonight?" Another answers, he's at a street fest in the city for a Why Store concert, the lucky son of a bitch. He's probably dancing his ass off right now getting all kinds of hot women."
"Yea," adds another friend, "he's a really good dancer." They all nod in jealous agreement.
A drunken girl is carried off by her boyfriend through the crowd.
A young man removes his shirt in front of us then squats to the street and pukes. He looses the friend he just made ten minutes ago and we move to a new area.
Dora does not want to leave yet. She dances and an odd young man sidles up to her and entertains a fantasy that she is with him while he imitates dance next to her. Why Store keeps singing happy music, one song blending into the next. The best thirty seconds occur when the lead singer inserts a few lines of Jim Morrison into his own lame repetitive music. I text a friend who is obviously doing something so much more interesting because I never receive a return text. Ohhhhh the humanity.
Why did I wear sandals? Beer splashes from tipping cups onto my toes, discarded aluminum and plastic jump around at our feet and scents of pechuli and stale breath waft around us.
The band finally ends its charade of bliss, the crowd ignorantly begs and encore and we make our way out of the crowd. I tell myself what a great blog post this will make.
On our way back to the house the cab drives us through a movie setting of Johnny Depp's latest film and finally I am entertained.