Tony at the Red Line Tap.

“Shut the friggin” door,” yelled Tony as I staggered in from the Polar Vortex and a 40 mile an hour wind blowing south down Glenwood.

“I had to get out of the house. I was going stir crazy. This is the fourth morning in a row I woke up to sub-zero temperatures.

“Sean. I’m feeling like a Portuguese Rochefort Trappistes 10. Bottle. No glass.”

“No problem,” said my new-age server. “Are you guys checkin’ out the Northern Lights tonight?”

“How cold is it supposed to be?” asked Tony “Because if it is this cold, the only light I’m gonna be looking at is a Bud Light.”

“No, no,” said Sean. “Man, this is a spiritual event for Chicago. Being able to see the Aurora Borealis!  The Algonquin people  believed that Nanahbozho the Creator, after he finished creating the earth, travelled to the far north, where he still builds great fires which reflect southward, to remind those he created of his lasting love.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re too far south to receive any of Nanaahbozho’s love,” said Tony. “Have you seen all the fights over parking spaces? I remember in the old days, people would respect a dining room set by the curb. Dibs was dibs. Now, the old traditions are tossed away like an old folding chair. Literally.”

“I think that stuff is stupid,” I said. “A guy who did a little shoveling – leaves for work and puts a milk crate in the parking spot – and the spot remains empty all day. Nobody can park there? It’s nuts.”

“You’re from LA, Klonsky. A parking space to people like you is where you’re stopped at rush hour on the 405. You are not inculcated with the protocols of our gritty, working class city on the Lake. Remember it was Richie the Younger who famously said that  if someone spends all that time digging their car out, do not drive in that spot. This is Chicago. Fair warning.”

“Forgetting who we are and where we come from – that will get you into trouble, my friend. Take my cousin Louisa.”

“Louisa?”

“Louisa is one of those young kids – grew up here in Rogers Park – but who has no respect for the working class traditions of our great City of Chicago. She is working for that north shore putz, Bruce Rauner.”

“The friend of Rahm’s who is running for Governor?”

“Yes. She’s his political consultant. It was her idea that he come out for lowering the minimum wage. A guy with 8 mansions and who makes a bazillion dollars a year, telling working people that eight bucks an hour is too much money. Her idea.”

“That kind of blew up in his face,” I said.

“Of course,” said Tony.

“It will all be different after tonight,” said Sean. “Your cousin Louisa and Rauner will all share in the love of Nanahbozho the Creator.”

“Too bad Nanahbozho the Creator isn’t a political consultant,” said Tony.