Boxing, sushi, bus.
After a day spent almost entirely on the phone playing catch-up with people, I went out last night for even more catch-up. I fretted about looking cute and realized that i have a dearth (a dearth I tell you) of cute saturday night clothes. I wound up in my silver Pumas, Gap jeans that are 1-2 sizes too big, and a too short polo shirt over long johns. Sexy, no?
My friends picked me up at 7:00 PM at the fullerton stop, which looks a bit like a war zone. Okay, not like a war zone at all. No snipers, no explosions, and the delays aren’t that bad. But seeing the tracks and platforms just end abruptly above the street is totally bizarre.
We had 7:45 reservations at Tsuki on Fullerton, where we dined on creative sushi rolls. My stomach doesn’t feel so hot today, but I’m not going to blame bad fish. Just a bad combination of pre-dinner wine and cheese and post-dinner too-sweet margarita. On top of a lot of fish eggs… okay, maybe I didn’t make great choices last night.
I explained mikvah to my dinner companions and how it separates time and doesn’t make something pure. We talked about why I converted and why I make kosher(ish) choices when I eat. I’ve been talking about it a lot this weekend. I’m surprised that any of my friends still have ears, I’ve been yakking yakking yakking so much. Poor Dubi had to get a lecture on conversion and the Israeli Rabbinic Courts. Julie, Daliah and Stephanie had to get a lecture on mikvah. Maybe I do need to go back to school.
After that we headed to Ukrainian Village for a party. “Don’t worry, the boxing match will be on and we’ll celebrate Cinco de Mayo in style!” In style indeed. There was a bartender mixing drinks, a huge sombrero filled with chips, and about 18 lbs of guacamole.
Nearly everyone there was Jewish, but all of the men were in the basement watching a boxing match. I don’t care how big a match it is, it is a violent sport and aren’t Jews supposed to abhore the sight of blood? We stayed at the party 15 minutes max. Long enough to catch up with the two people there I know, have a drink, and decide that the 6:1 woman to man ratio was unacceptable. Can I also add that my green polo shirt/long john choice was incredibly inappropriate for the crowd?
If you look at my business cards, these are people I have something in common with. I work in PR, I have clients, I sell a service, I work in the loop. But deep in my core, I had much more in common with the artists at the Mess Hall on Friday night.
We decided to leave and I took a pass on going to the Fulton Lounge. I hopped on the #66 Chicago bus and took it over to state. Then I walked up to Division, following the route of the Broadway bus. If I felt out of place at the party, I felt like an alien walking through Rush ‘n’ Division on a Saturday night.
Trollies full of bachelorette parties drove by, people stood on the sidewalk six deep watching that damn boxing match, a bar was blasting Who Let The Dogs Out? like it ws 2001 and not 2007. It was very surreal and I felt like a foreigner in my own city. Thank god I live in Edgewater. I might think I want to live somewhere more happening, but I really don’t.
Today is dedicated to laundry, dishes, shopping, mopping and probably reading.