Good Night
Yesterday night I met up with Graham. We stepped outside for cigarette, and as we opened the front doors to his courtyard apartment the noises of sweet concensual coitus filled our ears. At first it was 2/3 disbelief and 1/3 amazement. But as we heard the women screaming, "Joey, joey, joey, joey" we could not help ourselves and started laughing histerically. Pedestrians walked by and started laughing with us. Soon there were about 5-6 guys all standing around listening and laughing. When they finished Graham and I looked at each other and broke out into applause for the unexpected preformance. We heard something like "Oh Shit!" and blinds shut, and we laughed even harder.
Being kind of thirsty I made the motion to walk to the White Hen. We get our business done there and we were so close to the beach that we decided to take a walk. We scaled our way up north until we hit Loyola Park, where we saw left over mortars being shot off over the lake. Being mildly intoxicated we mistook the first mortar as a gun shot and grew weary. After the explosion and the smell of calcium phosphate we realized that we were indeed idiots.
We carried on from that scene to a breaker jutting out from the lake about 100 yds. As we stared off into the horizon contemplating the best combination of three forms of marial arts; which was boiled down to Jeet Kune Do, Jujitzu, and some form of art that trains in the terminal use of sharp objects, I turned to my left and noticed a naked man running out of the lake and into a woman. There were absolutely no clothes to be found on the man, and the woman didn't seem to mind it at all. A couple of minutes later Graham and I let out into another round of applause for this man's heroic attempt at getting some action. They both stopped cold and looked at us bug eyed and vulnerable. We laughed harder.
It was about the time to turn back so we started walking towards Sheridan Rd from the north lot of Loyola park. As we passed the second row of cars a squad rolled up beside us and asked us if we had heard gun shots. Graham and I just looked confused and the officer eye balled us for a second. We explained to him that there were people setting off mortars on the beach right about the place were the two lovers were rolling around naked. The officers thanked us for the help, and sped off with their cherries in full. There was a pause in their absense, and then their was an unordinant amount of laughter. We walked on and we saw another squad appoaching us slowly in front of us. It was the back up. They got the same story. Soon after the sencond one came through a third did the same thing. We gave them the same story too. The mental images of those two poor people being approached by three squad cars gives me a little pride even as I am typing right now.
From there we proceeded to get lost in Roger's park. In the duration I found a place I have I kept having reoccuring dreams about for two years, which was the last time I was actually there. It was a particular row of Victorian Homes I stumbled upon on in my first trip to see Loyola's campus. They were good dreams, but long gone and painful to remember. We moved through there fast, and we came up to a Metra train station that took off to Kenosha Wisconsin. We couldn't help but want to make the night even more crazy by going to see some cheddar heads; though, the next train didn't leave until 6:43. About ten miles of walking, bitching, and joking (I shit you not) later we land in front of the White Hen to grab some late night sandwiches. The End
Being kind of thirsty I made the motion to walk to the White Hen. We get our business done there and we were so close to the beach that we decided to take a walk. We scaled our way up north until we hit Loyola Park, where we saw left over mortars being shot off over the lake. Being mildly intoxicated we mistook the first mortar as a gun shot and grew weary. After the explosion and the smell of calcium phosphate we realized that we were indeed idiots.
We carried on from that scene to a breaker jutting out from the lake about 100 yds. As we stared off into the horizon contemplating the best combination of three forms of marial arts; which was boiled down to Jeet Kune Do, Jujitzu, and some form of art that trains in the terminal use of sharp objects, I turned to my left and noticed a naked man running out of the lake and into a woman. There were absolutely no clothes to be found on the man, and the woman didn't seem to mind it at all. A couple of minutes later Graham and I let out into another round of applause for this man's heroic attempt at getting some action. They both stopped cold and looked at us bug eyed and vulnerable. We laughed harder.
It was about the time to turn back so we started walking towards Sheridan Rd from the north lot of Loyola park. As we passed the second row of cars a squad rolled up beside us and asked us if we had heard gun shots. Graham and I just looked confused and the officer eye balled us for a second. We explained to him that there were people setting off mortars on the beach right about the place were the two lovers were rolling around naked. The officers thanked us for the help, and sped off with their cherries in full. There was a pause in their absense, and then their was an unordinant amount of laughter. We walked on and we saw another squad appoaching us slowly in front of us. It was the back up. They got the same story. Soon after the sencond one came through a third did the same thing. We gave them the same story too. The mental images of those two poor people being approached by three squad cars gives me a little pride even as I am typing right now.
From there we proceeded to get lost in Roger's park. In the duration I found a place I have I kept having reoccuring dreams about for two years, which was the last time I was actually there. It was a particular row of Victorian Homes I stumbled upon on in my first trip to see Loyola's campus. They were good dreams, but long gone and painful to remember. We moved through there fast, and we came up to a Metra train station that took off to Kenosha Wisconsin. We couldn't help but want to make the night even more crazy by going to see some cheddar heads; though, the next train didn't leave until 6:43. About ten miles of walking, bitching, and joking (I shit you not) later we land in front of the White Hen to grab some late night sandwiches. The End