Shimee Shay's Bar & Grill

I haven't had a drink almost 3 months now, and I feel pretty great. I'm more present for things going on in my life, more aware, more in the moment. I feel healthier and happier, getting more done, and enjoying my time with my family more.

So that's that.

Hey, let me tell you about someone else who was drunk. A friend of mine was in town with his son (he wasn't the drunk one, nor was his offspring), and he was bringing his young boy to his first baseball game at Wrigley Field. This friend has been living in LA for years-and-years now, but he decided he would be damned before he let his son's first game be a Dodgers game. And guess what? His son had the ultimate Wrigley experience and will likely (read hopefully) be a Cub fan for life. He got onto the field before both games and got autographs, the whole 9. 

So onto the funny drunk person story. After I parted ways with my buddy at a rooftop hotel bar overlooking the ballpark (where I drank fake beers, staying the course) an attractive 20-something attractive gal approached me. Did I say attractive twice?

"Do you know where the karaoke place is over that way," she said, motioning south down Clark Street.

"Well, Murphy's Bleachers used to have some karaoke" I suggested, not knowing if this was still true all these years having gone by since I painted the town brown in that neighborhood.

"No, that's not it."

"Oh, well, you could for sure go to Trader Todd's. That's not far at all, on Belmont and Sheffield. They do karaoke 7 days a week."

"That's not it either. It's a big name," she said, spanning her arms out like jazz hands in either direction, looking deep into my eyes like I would get it. She might have been on something besides booze, now that I think about it. "The name is like . . . Shimee shay," she said in an epic, important-sounding manner, "Like that's not it, but it's like that."

"So that's not the name at all because that's nonsense, but that's like the rhythm of the name?"

"Yeah!" She said, thinking I got her.

I didn't. "I'm sorry I don't know this gibberish bar. I wish I could be of more help."

"It's okay," was the last thing she said to me as she joined her friends walking south bound, relaying to them that the guy she talked to didn't know where the bar was. I hope they found it. I walked away not wishing at all that I was drunk like her, but looking back fondly on those drunken adventures. I don't need any more of them, but they're nice to fondly look back on in the rearview.

I Had One of the Best Nights of My LIfe . . .

. . . around 5 summers ago, and I just got thinking about it recently. It all began when a friend, who was also a roommate and star of numerous blog posts, and I went to the My Morning Jacket show at the Taste of Randolph Street right here in Chicago. This was before the band got more popular, so believe it or not, the show really wasn't that crowded. What was a little annoying was the yuppies there, and there were lots of them - no surprise given the neighborhood - had their backs to the band and were carrying on conversations. Looking around, I was one of the only guys dancing and getting into the music.

Well, regardless of the lackluster crowd, it was an amazing concert with the sun setting, making a beautiful backdrop behind the stage, and the Jacket was going all the way off - back when they all had long hair and did a lot of head banging. Roomy kept our beers full by sidestepping right to the front of the line, shooting one eyebrow up in the air like James Belushi, and smiling in the general direction of the people he was cutting off, and at 6'4" and nearly 300 pounds, nobody seemed to put up much of a fight.

Afterwords, he and I went to a house party that was in full swing by the time we got there, with the outdoor courtyard teaming with fun people in various stages of happy drunkenness. I remember commandeering the iPod and leading numerous sing-a-longs, mostly hair metal ballads, for some reason - Tesla's "Love Song" and Mr. Big's "The Next To Be With You" to name a few. Ladies all seem to love the latter for whatever reason, despite the fact that my interpretation has always been that the song is about some slut that half the band has nailed, and now the singer wants to have a go at her, but that's beside the point.

Later that night, one of the hosts of the party, a good looking female I had a thing for, was talking with me at length about I'm not sure what - but it was one of those conversations that seemed really important at the time. The pheromones were firing, eye contact was intense, and we started talking closer-and-closer, and I began to get a pretty good idea we would be kissing soon. It was one of those moments, and it was great.

The party started winding down, almost everyone had gone home, but she and I didn't even notice. I remember she was a big fan of Paul Simon, and we were spinning multiple songs by him, singing along to fun summery Simon classics like "Kodachrome" and "Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard," just feeling good. For whatever reason, we went for a long drunken walk through the city in the middle of the night - not the safest of activities, but we made it home, each in one piece, and it was then that we got to know each other a little more. With most of our clothes off.

It turns out we had strong feelings for one another, but for various reasons, we just never seemed to work out as a couple. There was a while where we would meet up after a random text and make out, and this went on about once or twice a year for a few years, but then we just lost touch.

It wasn't the best concert I ever saw, the best party I have ever attended, and she wasn't quite the love of my life, I guess, but all the different things that went on that night just made me feel incredible at a time when I rarely felt very good. The next day, jumping in a cab on my way home, I remember still feeling terrific.

Anyone else have an awesome night they would like to share? I hope you have had a night where you felt as good as I did on that Chicago summer night. We all should have a few nights like that before we die, right?