Saturday: Chicago-Style

Yesterday I became familiar with two staples of summer in Chicago—rec. sports leagues, and the mania that is North Avenue Beach.

 Though I was planning to check out a Farmers’ Market that I passed by on my morning run, when I got a call from a new Chicago friend inviting me to join him and some buddies for their weekly softball game, I readily accepted. At his assurance that it was “more of a friends-hanging-out” type of thing, I threw on a sundress and flip-flops. If only I had known…

We pulled up to the field (which is on the same street as the house featured in the show Family Matters!). There was his team: disheveled, disorganized, and on the verge of forfeit for shortage of players. I quickly realized that I was going to be getting a little more than I bargained for in the way of sporting activity. Not only was I informed that I had to play, but after one look at the other team—full of linebacker-esque guys, full-figured ladies, and donning uniforms which boldly announced the name of their sponsor (!)—I started to wish I had stuck to picking out produce and perusing second-hand furniture. “Put down that Slurpee…you’re up” a team-member barked to Marie…let the games begin.

An hour later, sweaty, muddy, and bruised (literally), but with a victory under our belts, and an open invitation for next weeks’ game (apparently third-baseman is my calling) we headed to the beach.

Having been told by several people that North Avenue Beach is one of the coolest places to hang out in Chicago during the summer, I was shocked by its resemblance to the type of Spring Break atmosphere that I had managed to avoid all four years of college. Perhaps the unbelievable crowd yesterday can be blamed on summer’s late arrival to the city this year; everyone was just anxious to get started on their tans. I’m hoping this is the case, because otherwise, though it might be the Saturday hot spot for some people, I’m not sure that I will be making a habit of putting down my towel on the sands of North Avenue. I'll be on the look-out for a less crowded, less intense stretch of Lake Michigan shoreline. Because, to be honest, I’d trade the bumping club music, and the front row view of the “Fittest Man in Chicago” competition for sunning in some park any day, where flowers and four-leaf clovers are found in ground, instead of inked on biceps and lower backs.