Gold Star's a little dive bar in Wicker Park, Chicago. The bartender was a gracious, round lady, who bought her regulars rounds of drinks. She's the daughter of the owner, meaning this bar has been around for decades. How old do you think this Bud Light wall clock is?
The tamale guy came through the Gold Star Bar at around this time, selling his supply for $5 a pop. Just like there's the Tamale Lady in SF, there's a dude in CHI. Isn't that uncanny? The guys next to us said it's the best meal in town for the money.
Fugazi blasted through the speakers, and they sold $2 cans of Hamm's beer. I adored this place-- @totallymatt even bought a shirt.
Everyone in Chicago-- from the bouncers, restaurant servers, and locals on the street-- are so ridiculously friendly here. Save the fact that they have horrible senses of direction: THREE people, all locals, gave me wrong directions yesterday. Or maybe people just like to fuck with me?
Four words as I depart this great city today: TALK DERBY TO ME.