Summer in the City: Part 1

Ask me where I’m from, I say Chicago. But little known secret: I’ve never spent an entire summer here. So begins my series of chronicling my first summertime.

I don’t know how I ended up in a three-story warehouse party with free booze, free concerts and DJs, and free mini hotdogs, but I did. It was some invitation-only thing sponsored by Heineken, and my friends had an extra ticket. I find this out last minute and bike three and half fast miles up North just in time to catch the end of Matt & Kim’s “Daylight.”

The party looked like this: freely flowing beer. Enough material to play “find the biggest hipster” for hours on end. A (not very good) DJ spinning on glowing Heineken barrels several feet above the crowd. Screens everywhere flashing INSPIRE INSPIRE INSPIRE so ginourmously and frequently that I think I began to feel inspired - but maybe all the beer had something to do with that.

By the time Cold War Kids came on stage, I didn’t even care how unreasonably tall every single freaking person standing in front of us was. I danced, I sang shouted, I laughed when some rando dude with glasses crookedly falling from his face tried to mack on my friend. The show ended, empty Heineken glasses were hidden in purses and pockets, we were herded out.

The night went on. On my bike ride back, I passed an interesting assortment of a band: one saxophone, two trombones, one drum, one flute, and one maraca. They were playing something jazzy and had attracted a crowd. I hang there for a bit, then ran into I guy from one of my temp jobs months back. The catch-up conversation was good, and I told him to invite me to his next punk show. One more beer and some late night mac ‘n cheese later, I was in bed.

When I woke up the next day at 11:30, I felt refreshed. Then I ate a burrito.