Thax Douglas

In 1986 I didn't care about the Bears. I drove into the city from Woodridge and the streets were deserted as if everyone was huddling in their basements waiting for the big one to drop. There was nowhere to go. A restaurant I frequented, the Kozy Korner on Lincoln and Foster, was open, but I was the only customer. The staff was clustered around a small black-and-white TV with bad reception cursing whenever a wave of static would drown out the commentary. An effeminate waiter would scream "Pass it, honey!" at the screen every few minutes. Next I went to Barbara's Bookstore, at that time the only place in town to buy Burroughs and Bukowski. Even here there was not a sports bigot to be found--the place was eerily empty and while the game was not on TV, on the radio a pair of jocks were commenting about the game. It was inescapable. When it was over I went to my one Chicago friend's apartment and we went out dancing at Neo's, which was also empty.

(2007-01-30)

Also by Thax Douglas

The Curse
I am a slave to the belief that how I spend New Year's Eve will determine how I feel for the entire year
(2006-12-22)

Over the rainbow
Judy Garland raised vulnerability to an art form
(2004-06-23)

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