Duck and cover.

Today marks the beginning of this weekend's Air & Water Show in Chicago. It's fine and everything, if you like boats and planes and all that shit. Which I don't, but whatever.

Here's the thing though, every year without fail, I forget what weekend the show is and then when the planes fly over at Mach 10, like 50 feet above my head, I think we're being divebombed by terrorists.

I live right by the lake, so literally, the skies darken and my apartment shakes. Last year my dad and I were unassumingly walking down Broadway by Wellington, with our iced coffees from the Bobtail and a huge F150 (I know that's a truck, but this is my story) fly overhead. I totally pushed my dad out of the way and took cover in an alley. Hey, if the apocolypse is coming, every man for himself.

Not to mention the traffic and the mouth agaped tourists just standing around looking at the sky in the fucking parking spot I am trying to parallel park my car in.

So that's my post for today. The fucking "wings and waves" have invaded Chicago again. F-ing a.