Ladies and gentlemen: the story you are about to hear is true. Some of the names have been changed to protect the innocent. This is the final part of a four part story. Read PART I here. Read PART II here. Read PART III here. Read PART IV here.
Once the sun goes down anything goes in Pilsen. I learned that firsthand the summer of 2011.
Zoey, my girlfriend at the time, was a crust punk that was into protesting for workers rights and salting for labor unions. She had a lot of activist friends living in the Humboldt Park and Pilsen neighborhoods because of the low rent and lack of police patrols. For instance, she had friends that lived in a house in Humboldt Park that had seven roommates, a few dogs, cats, a jellyfish, turtle and a chicken coop in the backyard. The progenitor of these chickens was purchased from a hispanic neighbor a few doors over that sold live poultry and fresh produce out of his back yard.
One sweltering summer weekend we were invited by some of her friends to a backyard show in the Little Village neighborhood that borders Pilsen to the west. At the time I was living at an apartment in Old Irving Park, so we hopped on my Vespa and hauled ass down Western Avenue to the show. Upon arrival, we were witness to the first salvo in the unrelenting weirdness that would prevail throughout the night. Continue reading