My friend Brian (the HAM) was in town last night with his girlfriend and some friends. After dinner and some drinks we set out to meet one of our friends at a bar in Lincoln Park called Griffin's. Griffin's featured a bluegrass band and lots of hippies. I honestly felt out of place with my shoes on. We enjoyed the music and a few beers at Griffin's but it was packed so we walked across the street to AliveOne, another potential hippie bar, but nowhere near as busy. After winning a couple games on the pool table and enjoying the 15 songs I queued up on their “live music only” jukebox we decided a burrito at Allende's would hit the spot. As we stood outside in the rain waiting for a cab, a white ghetto sled, most likely an Impala, drove by and before we could comprehend their scream of “fucking hippies” we had been egged. Yep, you read it right, egged. I though egging was reserved for Halloween? Don't they call it bombing? I barely got hit, but my buddy got a scrambled egg right in his ear complete with a full shell on his shoulder, and Kelly got a poached egg all over her new pants and jacket. The rest of us caught minor egg shrapnel and now I know why they still haven't figured out how many shooters there were on the grassy knoll.
In retrospect, it was pretty damn funny and I'm just glad it was a couple of eggs instead of a couple of bullets.
-schrags