Tourism in Wicker Park and Lots of Colons. (The Punctuation. Not the Organ.)
Those who know me, know of my absolute contempt for this particular area of Chicago. For this, there are many reasons:
douchebag ex-boyfriends, automobile breaking and entering and the area police's obstinate refusal to do anything about it, a complete abesence of parking...and finally:
The notion that Wicker Park is the Nexus of Cool held only by the young people living there smelling of wet coat and feelings.
No, fuck it, the whole fucking area smells like a fifth grade coat room. Is there an embargo on showering, shaving, and grooming in general???
The place is a shithole. It's a bunch of Trustafarians living in squallor "because it's cool to do so."
Indeed, apparently, living in a condemned loft complete with requisite hole-in-floor and rickety near-ladder-like stair case is the height of cosmopolitan according to these no-loads.
I had very nearly forgotten about my contempt for all things Wicker Park until this experience last week:
ToCro and I were headed out to see my drummer play a solo set at The Note. Now, here's the thing. I know where the place is. When I'm on foot. Fuck me if I can find it in a car. Anyway, we finally parked the car 5 leagues away and were walking down Milwaukee, hoping it was the right direction, and of course, the bar wasn't where I remembered it. So, I had ToCro ask for directions.
In Wicker Park.
I may as well have strapped an "I'm from the Real World" sandwich board on her and waited for jackals to eat her.
"Hey, excuse me... Do you know where The Note is? We got a little turned around..Stupid Milwaukee Avenue..ha ha."
(Which, in all fairness, if you don't know what you're doing on that road, you could be going the wrong way all day no matter how many times you turn around. It's the Bermuda Triangle of Chicago thoroughfares.)
To which someone replied:
"No...*snigger* we're not from around here."
Huh.
And neither were any of the other FIVE FUCKING RANDOM PEOPLE WE ASKED.
What happened?
They played French and pretended not to speak English.
THAT'S what happened.
"LOL, look at the freaks from somewhere that isn't awesome and totally cool and emo and Wicker Park. We don't want them here. Let's fuck with them."
What??? Are you kidding me?
It's so against Chicagoan nature I can't even wrap my brain around it.
So, here's what:
I propose we cut Wicker Park out of Chicago Maps and declare it a commonwealth. The lawless bastards can keep to themselves and set out on their porches with shotguns and horn-rimmed glasses shouting at people to
"Go Back to Your Own Neighborhood! We're too cool for you. But totally check out my awesome and totally ironic and cool vintage sweatshirt that I didn't get from Ragstock because that place totally sold out...so I went to the village discount. Which is also pretty trendy, but I was late for karaoke in Lincoln Square where I totally wrecked songs by screaming them. Ironically."
Fuck Wicker Park.
For serious.
douchebag ex-boyfriends, automobile breaking and entering and the area police's obstinate refusal to do anything about it, a complete abesence of parking...and finally:
The notion that Wicker Park is the Nexus of Cool held only by the young people living there smelling of wet coat and feelings.
No, fuck it, the whole fucking area smells like a fifth grade coat room. Is there an embargo on showering, shaving, and grooming in general???
The place is a shithole. It's a bunch of Trustafarians living in squallor "because it's cool to do so."
Indeed, apparently, living in a condemned loft complete with requisite hole-in-floor and rickety near-ladder-like stair case is the height of cosmopolitan according to these no-loads.
I had very nearly forgotten about my contempt for all things Wicker Park until this experience last week:
ToCro and I were headed out to see my drummer play a solo set at The Note. Now, here's the thing. I know where the place is. When I'm on foot. Fuck me if I can find it in a car. Anyway, we finally parked the car 5 leagues away and were walking down Milwaukee, hoping it was the right direction, and of course, the bar wasn't where I remembered it. So, I had ToCro ask for directions.
In Wicker Park.
I may as well have strapped an "I'm from the Real World" sandwich board on her and waited for jackals to eat her.
"Hey, excuse me... Do you know where The Note is? We got a little turned around..Stupid Milwaukee Avenue..ha ha."
(Which, in all fairness, if you don't know what you're doing on that road, you could be going the wrong way all day no matter how many times you turn around. It's the Bermuda Triangle of Chicago thoroughfares.)
To which someone replied:
"No...*snigger* we're not from around here."
Huh.
And neither were any of the other FIVE FUCKING RANDOM PEOPLE WE ASKED.
What happened?
They played French and pretended not to speak English.
THAT'S what happened.
"LOL, look at the freaks from somewhere that isn't awesome and totally cool and emo and Wicker Park. We don't want them here. Let's fuck with them."
What??? Are you kidding me?
It's so against Chicagoan nature I can't even wrap my brain around it.
So, here's what:
I propose we cut Wicker Park out of Chicago Maps and declare it a commonwealth. The lawless bastards can keep to themselves and set out on their porches with shotguns and horn-rimmed glasses shouting at people to
"Go Back to Your Own Neighborhood! We're too cool for you. But totally check out my awesome and totally ironic and cool vintage sweatshirt that I didn't get from Ragstock because that place totally sold out...so I went to the village discount. Which is also pretty trendy, but I was late for karaoke in Lincoln Square where I totally wrecked songs by screaming them. Ironically."
Fuck Wicker Park.
For serious.
posted by LC Greenwood at 9:18 PM
3 Comments:
SANDWICH BOARD! That's what I needed!!!
Yeah, it was interesting to feel like I wasn't welcome in my own city. Although I'm sure they don't feel like they are a part of the larger society. With their feelings and whatnot.
Ah, how I chuckle at you Chicagoans and your little "neighborhoods". Which is more trendy - which is more posh?
Up here in "E Town", we don't discuss such petty things. The poor folk stay on the west of the tracks, and we richees stick to the east side, with our priseteen beaches and Sheridan Rd manses.
Life is good... *sigh*
I'm going to have buttons made that say "Vote YES on 86: WP Abolishment," and see how many emos I can dupe into wearing them for my "cause."
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