Nearly six years ago, when we first moved to Chicago, we lived down the street from a hole-in-the-wall, atypical Wrigleyville bar named Wrigleyville North. My husband (then fiance) and our friend Nick were regulars who affectionately called it “Country Bar” because a country band played every weekend. This band, much to Nick’s chagrin, played “Rocky Top” much too frequently.
I called it “Bad Bar.” Not because I didn’t like it. Mostly because it didn’t have much going for it in the way of ambience.
Some things don’t change. The bar is still unremarkable, but holds a place in my heart for its fond new city memories, decent jukebox, and of course, a ladies’ room with two toilets.
We never quite figured out why there are two toilets. Women don’t pee next to each other. Hmmm.
We went back to Wrigleyville North last weekend after a Cubs game as a large group. Not to hear the country band, but this time to honor Nick. Maybe it was a combination of his presence, our dear friends being in one place, and distraction pool (I’ll explain this another time), but I can’t honestly remember having so much fun at that bar.
I’d like to think that Nick is somewhere now wearing his Cubs jersey, enjoying an Old Style and shaking his head at the sound of Rocky Top.