Mother dearest

I was sitting in traffic on Lawrence Avenue in the Uptown neighborhood when I saw a little girl, probably about ten years old, trip on the sidewalk and tumble into a concrete barrier. It wasn't tall -- maybe two feet -- so it was obvious she wasn't badly hurt, but she might have skinned or sprained her hand trying to catch her balance.

My first thought, as a complete stranger passing by in a car, was along the lines of, "Oh, that poor baby." And the first impulse of the woman with her, who I assume was her mother? Although I couldn't hear the words, I could tell the mother was scolding and berating the little girl, not only by her facial expression, but because she grabbed the girl by the shoulders and started shaking her.

I know that kids can try your patience and that the job of parenting is very difficult at times. Still, I can't comprehend how a parent's first impulse when her child is hurt would be to punish the child rather than to comfort her. Imagine how that little girl felt. Isn't it embarrassing enough to take a tumble on a public sidewalk without being treated like that? I feel helpless in those situations too, because I feel awful for the child but don't feel like I can really do anything about it. It didn't seem like the mother was hurting the girl, just humiliating her -- which to me is just about as bad, but not a "crime."

Just say no

Look, I know part of this is due to the natural effects of aging, but I think Keith Richards is a walking testament to the virtues of not using drugs.

This used to be an attractive man.

See?

Uptown woman arrested after punching men (c****!) on Lake View L platform

FROM STNG WIRE REPORTS

An Uptown neighborhood woman was arrested for allegedly punching two men on a North Side L platform Sunday night in the Lake View neighborhood.

Nicole Patrick, 39, of the 1000 block of West Lawrence Avenue, was charged with simple battery, a misdemeanor, according to police.

The incident occurred at 6:50 p.m. at the CTA’s Belmont Red Line L station when Patrick allegedly called two men who were standing together on the platform “c----,’’ according to police.

Police said one of the men “took exception” to the statement and she punched him in the chest and scratched his neck. The other man came to his aid and she allegedly punched him in the nose, giving him a bloody nose, police said.

Both men declined medical treatment. Other citizens intervened and she was held there until police got her into custody.

Officers said she was intoxicated, combative and very aggressive.

It was her first arrest, according to police.

Strange sights

Yesterday I was driving through the Uptown neighborhood on my way to work when I saw a pretty bizarre-looking dude. There are a lot of odd people in this city, but this guy really stood out. He was wearing sort of a women's "sexy police officer" costume with a badge, tight black miniskirt, and knee-high boots. He had a pretty slinky walk going on, but he also had a beard. I dunno, seems like maybe it would be worth shaving to get the full effect.

Strange days, indeed

Today on the way to the grocery store I saw a midget cab driver filling up his car at the gas station and a guy with a neck brace screaming at a hippie woman. I also saw a jogger get hit by a car on Thursday (he was not hurt). Something magical must be in the air...

Terrifying Damen bus story #1

When I worked in downtown Chicago and took the bus or el to work daily, I had lotsa stories. Bad stories. Stories like this charmer:

It was the year 2000. I was a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed recent Chicago transplant (from Michigan) and was madly in love with my new city. I was working in a high-rise downtown and living in frou-frou Lakeview, mere blocks from the beach and in the middle of shops, restaurants, and tons of transit options. I didn’t know a lot yet.

Waiting at the bus stop the very first time I was to take the bus home from work, I saw a bus at the stop south of mine. It pulled over and stopped. And sat. And sat. And then a man came walking toward me from the direction of the bus. “If you’re waiting for that #36 bus up there,” he said, “it’s stopped and they’re waiting for the police because some passenger in the back was sniffing paint from a bag.”

There could not be a more proper introduction to Chicago transit, although frankly I preferred the time I came back from a fantastic trip to San Diego and got on the el at O’Hare airport only to discover I was sitting next to a steaming pile of vomit. Welcome home.

I don’t take the CTA much anymore because I drive to work, but on the random weekend jaunt it can be the easiest way to get somewhere. Last weekend I took the bus nearest my apartment, the #50 Damen Ave. and it was quite a treat. A couple boarded the bus carrying a big plastic bag and sat down across from me. The man began removing the items in the bag one by one. It was full of clothing, obviously from a Village Discount thrift shop — obvious because they staple the price tags on the clothes.

Out came a sports jersey. Off came the tag and on the floor it went. Out came a sports jersey. Off came the tag and on the floor it went. Out came a sports jersey. Off came the tag and on the floor it went. You get the picture, right? Something like 6 or more jerseys, representing all kinds of sports — football, basketball, soccer. And then, miraculously, two pairs of dress slacks, which didn’t seem quite the right type of pants for half a dozen or more sports jerseys. A couple of women’s items that couldn’t have been for the rather robust woman. Frighteningly, a bath towel (sorry, but I don’t buy used items that have touched someone else’s privates).

I had looked away when I heard the woman say something to me. “What?” I asked. “It’s cute, isn’t it?” she cooed. I looked up and saw the man holding a see-through floral nightie. “Uh, yeah, it’s cute,” I lied.

Then the man lifted up a pair of matching thong undies and snapped the side string with his mouth. That’s right — he put used underpants in his mouth. The horror! The horror! But it got worse. They started kissing.

Then someone got off the bus so they switched seats. And kissed more. Then they switched seats again, so they were seated two feet from my face. And kissed some more. Because nothing says romance like seeing your boyfriend bite a used see-through nightie that won’t fit you, I guess.