In the South, Labor Day, like most holidays, is a day for professionals, bankers and government workers to cook out and go to the Beach. Other people have to work, as is their lot in life.
But apparently not here in the unionized North. All the dry cleaners are closed (Ok, so we should have taken that stuff in last week, but K has places to be!), and most of the restaurants -- at least in our neighborhood.
I tried to take Kayla to the beach to revel in the sand and sunshine, but the traffic was so terrible that we had to turn back. I caught a glimpse of the lake off in the distance, just over the snaking lines of cars stuck in the road looking for a parking space.
People who drive Jeep Wranglers tend to be assholes, or so I've noticed. Maybe you too? Chicago's Finest had blocked off the main entrance to Montrose Beach and we're directing traffic onto Lakeshore toward another entrance. The Wrangler driver in front of me tried to argue with the cops, wasting a lot of time for the rest of us to get stuck in another line. The thing is, this the the Chicago PD. Wearing full uniforms and, for some reason, bulletproof vests (is the beach that dangerous?) in 90 degree weather. If they tell you to turn left, you turn left.
Kayla and I got stuck trying to find a space. Cars crawled along in all directions except out. People and bikers weaved their way between the cars. And there was no parking in sight. A few hearty folks apparently had parked somewhere far outside the park, becuase plenty of people walked in with all of their beach stuff from the other side of Lakeshore. It was kind of like going to Myrtle Beach on Memorial Day weekend, except not as well organized.
We turned around.
Where did all these people come from? Apparently, all the restaurants we tried to eat at this evening. I guess everyone takes the day off and goes straight to the beaches. We ended up eating what were supposed to veggie burgers, but what were really veggie sloppy joes at Orange. I think their brunch is ok, but there's a reason why they're never busy for dinner. If only they had called it a day too. Next year, pizza on the porch.
