You Guest It

The hospitality of friends on our recent road trip inspired us. As of last night, the second bedroom went from a home office (the junk drawer of spare rooms) into a proper sleeping quarters for out-of-town visitors.

It took a couple days of organizing, Craigslisting, and donating lots of stuff. More importantly, we threw away about six hundred tons of random whatnot that could (should) have been trashed before moving here a year and a half ago. It's not so much that I'm a pack rat, just that I invest considerable sentiment in old cracked CD cases, loose action figures and and AC adapters from electronics long gone.

It was a sweet sorrow, but I'm coping. Rest assured that more important items like my first Chicago apartment lease, a 2007 Sugar Bowl souvenir soda cup and bracelet ID from a Saturday Night Live taping survived the cutbacks. So did the hotel key from last fall's Seattle trip and a $1.99 monkey drum purchased in Chinatown some years ago.

A short post ... just a heads-up to our friends in Cincinnati, Louisville, Milwaukee, Tonica and other places around the globe that there's a cozy converted futon available any time you find yourself in 60660.

Hiberniation

St. Patrick's Day. The birthday of my cousin Patrick as well as my late grandfather (and namesake) John Patrick. Usually on this day I eagerly participate in the traditional "Fulfillin' O' the Stereotypes" at a local pub, but I confess to sorta taking this year off. Sorta.

Last year at this time I jumped at the chance to make some extra cash by working the door at The Hidden Shamrock, where some pals and I are regulars. From 9am until around 6pm on a Saturday, my cousin and I split the responsibility of wrangling a half-block long line of sloppy amateurs until it was their turn to pay $5 for the privilege of coming in to drink. Honestly? The year-old memory of that embarrassing debacle scarred me enough to skip the main course of this year's communal festivities.

I wasn't completely unobservant. Sunday afternoon Brooke, Sully and I returned to the scene of last year's crime for The Hidden Shamrock's traditional Irish music session. Banjos and bodhrans were played, cornbeef and cabbage was eaten, pints were emptied, but responsibly. While there, we were pleasantly reminded of the path not taken as we were treated to scores of green-hued enthusiasts stumbling out of school buses returning from the South Side Parade.

Today I stayed on the straight and narrow thanks to a work-related luncheon at an Italian restaurant ... which was across from Fado, a huge Irish pub that was bustling with St. Patrick's Day revelers.

O'Well. At least they served our iced tea in pint glasses.

X-patriate

Brooke and I enjoyed a delightful road trip to Cincinnati and Louisville this past weekend. It was a long overdue visit with some friends from Xavier, nearly all of whom had houses and children I'd only seen in photos.

Maybe this is the same with most people, but my levels of comfort and expectations are adjustable for hanging with different circles of friends. Not in any subjective measurement of whose company I enjoy more, just variable degrees of familiarity.

In Chicago nearly all of my close friends came through being involved with improv over the last 8 years. When we get together there's often a constant pressure to be "on," but not out of any competitive posturing. On the contrary, it's the selfish satisfaction of getting laughs from people whose intelligence and talent we all genuinely respect.

With the college pals, however, it's different ... there's almost no intelligence or talent involved. Just kidding. Really, it's just that I feel a permission to (for lack of a better phrase that doesn't sound like the title of a "Mister Rogers" song) be myself around those guys than with any other social circle.

Most of us met because we shared the same wing of a dorm during freshman year. It's strange to think that such strong friendships were conceived by some random room assignments of some Residence Life employee at some Jesuit school in the Midwest, but that's how it happened for us. Our different backgrounds and personalities turned out to be a great fit for the exciting, confusing, sometimes terrifying years meant to bridge adolescence and adulthood ... and for that I am very grateful.

It's no surprise that such constant interaction during that time gave our friendships such a strong foundation. Still, it's nice to be reminded during those increasingly rare occasions when we can all get together. Even if our most frequent form of contact is a ball-busting email thread or quick voice mail to recommend a movie, it's enough to ensure that the next time we convene will be a seamless extension of the previous outing. Despite the addition of girlfriends and wives and houses and kids, I expect we'll stay in touch for the long haul ... and even beyond that, we know our pal Chuck is reserving us a few barstools upstairs somewhere.

Difficult as it is to believe, my college mates have been friends almost longer than we haven't. A kid born on our first day of college is getting his driver's license this year. Watch out for that kid. It won't be long before he's running around like a maniac leaving autographed bottles of cheap wine all around campus. Trust me.