No, this is crazy: today I saw a guy roller-blading down Lincoln Avenue while pushing a double-wide baby stroller. Sheesh, somebody ought to call DCFS or something.
Another observation: I was eating a leisurely lunch at Costello Sandwich & Sides while reading a great book (so far, at least), Ogallala Blue by William Ashworth. The Cubs game was on the overhead TV in the corner. Occasionally, I looked up from my book to see the Cubs beating the tar out of the San Diego Padres. Having been emotionally scarred as a child by the 1984 National League Championship Series, I still love to see the Cubs whip them, even though that slimy bastard Steve Garvey is long gone. But I digress.*
Anyway, over the two hours that I was there (I told you it was leisurely!), I saw at least half a dozen women wearing Cubs jerseys or t-shirts come in to buy sandwiches. Strangely, every one of them sat at a table outside instead of sitting inside where they could watch the game. Granted, it was a beautiful day, but still. I couldn't imagine my mom -- a real Cubs fan** -- choosing a little sidewalk sunshine over a good Padre pummeling.
* I'll make this a footnote to avoid digressing even more. In 8th grade, I had a history teacher who would use that phrase several times an hour. The word digress will forever remind me of him, as will any mention of the Civil War -- he was a reenactor, and he'd often wear his uniform to class.
** My definition of a real Cubs fan: someone who goes to Wrigley Field to watch the game, not to get drunk on ridiculously overpriced beer.