Sunday, June 04, 2006


Summer is here. Some people think that Memorial Day is the kick off for summer. They don't live in Lincoln Square in the Chi. I have written about the end of summer before, but the following tune signaled the beginning of summer for me.

In heaven there is no beer (no beer!)
That's why we drink it here
And when we are gone from here
Our friends will be drinking all the beer

Im Himmel gibt's kein Bier,
Drum trinken wir es hier.
Denn sind wir nicht mehr hier,
Dann trinken die andern unser Bier.

That's right. This weekend was Maifest. L and I only went last night. However, we were chock full of Gemutlichkeit by the time we left. I got to sing In Heaven There is No Beer at least twice, as well as the E I E I E I O song they do, the Ole song they do (we ARE the champions, ole!), and participated in at least five Prosits. It was great. L was very tolerant of my singing.


By the way, the fest is 1.5 blocks directly down our street. That means that there has been tremendous foot traffic up and down our street this weekend. Two of the members of the street traffic group were two kids about seventh grade. L and I were sitting out on the balcony enjoying a drink and the nice air. I heard our buzzer buzz and immediate footsteps on the sidewalk. I knew we had been ding-dong ditched. I knew this because I was a practitioner of the ding donging arts as a youngster. I also knew the anxiety of the ditch. So I stood up, and in my deepest voice (which is pretty bass) I barked, loud and proud after the kids "BUSTED!"

It was great. The one kid let out a little yip, and they both got a little extra speed in their run. I watched them run a solid block, which is much further than is generally respectable for the ditch. L and I were laughing so hard we were crying. Those kids probably shit themselves. Which reminds me of the next sight seen.

A kid of maybe 12 is in his traditional German costume walking a puppy. About two minutes after he walks by an older, grandmotherly woman walks down the street behind him toward the fest. Suddenly she bellows "hat der Hund Schei╬▓ gemacht?" Literally, she has just hollered a block ahead of her "has the dog made a shit?" To her grandson. L and I were dying at how funny it sounded to have an old Oma ask if the dog had taken a shit.


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