Suburban nostalgia

I ended up at the Bears/Eagles game Sunday, thanks to my boss's season tickets. Beforehand I tailgated in Soldier Stadium's south parking lot with a co-worker's grandfather, a long-time butcher from a Chicago suburb who's been hauling the largest-motherfucking-grill-I've-ever-seen to Bears' games for the past thirty years. I ate: steak, lambchops, corned beef sandwiches.

We had fantastic seats and I drank too much overpriced beer and cheered on a team I don't know much about and which, of course, lost. It was really fantastic. I rode home in a bus filled with people wearing the same colors and felt that occasionally recurring nostalgia for Friday night games and wood-paneled basements.