Monday Morning Quarterbacking

Frankly, I’m relieved the Bears lost to the Colts in the Super Bowl. Because if we hadn’t, then there would have been some sort of ticker tape parade through downtown and did we really want to line the route and watch each other's nose hairs turn to icicles in 20-below temps?

I know some of my fellow Chicagoans would answer that with a resounding “Hell yes!” And these would be the same people that every news station has managed to scare up for the always popular sound bite: “I love the cold. It’s Chicago. It’s winter. We live for this weather.”

Oh, shut up already.

This weekend I was standing in the AMC Theatre lobby, the one just blocks off Lake Michigan, and I could see my breath—indoors!--as we waited for our parking validation. My facial epidermis was sheared off by the wind just walking from our car into Trader Joe’s. Right now, our drafty condo is so chilly, I’m thinking of packing up and heading to one of the city’s “warming centers.” I do not live for this. I would kill for it to be 70 degrees. I would kill for Illinois to be Hawaii.

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How about the poor suckers who paid thousands of dollars for Super Bowl tickets, just for the privilege of getting drenched by the only downpour ever to descend on the Big Game? Personally, I would have taken advantage of every excuse to go to the bathroom, buy a hot dog or otherwise get the hell out of my seat.

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First the Fiesta Bowl, now the Super Bowl. Twice this year, Dave and I have watched our favorite teams play for a national football title. Twice we have watched them field the opening kickoff and return it for a touchdown. Twice we have had our early exuberance fade to despair as both our beloved OSU Buckeyes and Chicago Bears had their asses handed to them on a platter. This does not bode well for the Cubs, but then again, that’s nothing new.