Only In Rogers Park

22 YEAR-OLD VIGOROUSLY SHAKEN, UPSIDE-DOWN, BY BULLY IN BUNGLED ATTEMPT TO STEAL LUNCH MONEY

You read that headline right, folks. I was confronted by a bully in hopes of getting my lunch money. I only wish I could think this stuff up. It was about midnight on Friday night, and I was walking back to my apartment. In fact, I was right in front of my own apartment. So close, that any of my roommates could have seen the oddity described below if they were looking out the window. Just before I was going to cross Albion and duck into our door, the Bully, who had been in a group on the other side of the street appeared right in front of me, staring directly at me. And from the looks his stern Bully disposition, he probably deactivated his muscle memory for how to smile when he was four. I didn't see him come across the street, so I must assume that he possesses some sort of magical bully transporting superpower. I'm a tall guy, but the Bully was even taller. And, believe it or not, wider and from the looks of him, stronger than me. I was silent. The Bully was not. "Give me your lunch money," he demanded. "Huh?" It's midnight, Bully. You appear to be terribly confused. "GIVE ME YOUR LUNCH MONEY," he said, raising his voice and inching even closer to me. Not wanting to laugh in the Bully's face, but uncertain how to exactly handle the situation, I stood and looked directly into his beady bully eyes. Is this the new style of assault? Confusing the victim by demanding a ridiculous ransom of lunch money before clubbing me over the head and dragging me off to some dark basement? "Huh?" A twinge of fear began to sink in. The Bully meant business. The Bully was undeterred by my questioning. Apparently set on his quest to get my lunch money, he tried a new tactic. He threw one hand between my legs, one hand over my shoulders, and picked me up. Then, the unthinkable. He turned me upside down and started to shake me vigorously. At this point, let me remind you of how tall and gangly I am. Shaken upside down? Got that picture in your head? Okay, let's proceed. My sandals quickly abandoned my feet and went for a ride. A notebook I happened to be carrying hit the pavement. My keys exited my pocket and clinked down on the sidewalk. But, ironically enough, my wallet remained in my jeans pocket. At this point, the Bully puts me down on my feet. "Just kidding, man." Gee, thanks. Sensing I was the butt of a joke, I looked over to the other side of the street and saw his buddies laughing, shaking their heads, and saying how much of an asshole the Bully is. After reorientating myself and getting my stuff together, I tried to go the rest of the 50 feet and get into my doorway. The Bully's friends would have none of it, though. They were in the mood for small talk. I even got the Bully's name and handshake in a slightly odd display of bully amicability ("Hey, I'm Dan, but people call me Dion."). The strangeness didn't stop there. "What's that you're carrying?" Bully's companion, Mega-Wasto-Girl asks. "Oooo, is that a journal?" "Yes." "Wow, noooo way, I'm in the same class!!!" "Huh? I've only got my name, address, email, and number. No class info." "Oh. (pause) Is that your social security number???" "Nope, it's my phone number." "Oooo. (pause) Can I get your phone number???" "Uh..." Before I could finish, she whips out her phone and begins the painstaking process of entering my name and number, quite possibly not even able to remember her own. "Make sure you walk her home in the morning," the Bully jeers, him the group leaving Mega-Wasto-Girl behind with me. "You assholes!" she yells, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk as she attempts something akin to a wobble to try to catch up with Bully and Company. As I watched them stumble off down the road and into the night, I could only wonder if I would get a call from Mega-Wasto-Girl the next day. I never did. Was it all a dream? Am I making this up? The moral of the story? Hell if I know.

August 30, 1983 Was A Good Day

Here's a fun collage of my girl Teresa and I from our picnic we had down at the Jazz Fest in Grant Park. She's a pretty swingin' country gal, and believe it or not, we have the same birthday. Aren't you jealous? In fact, I attribute a lot of my friendships from high school to meeting her in an AIM chat before sophomore year of high school. Who said internet meetings were all bad news? Not us.