Taste of Chicago

I don’t like the Taste of Chicago (or as we call it here, The Taste) for a couple of reasons. The first being that every hooh-​hah from outside the city decides to roll (and I do mean roll) in an make a ghastly attempt at being cultured city folk. Culture is apparently trying 4 different kinds of egg rolls, a piece of cheesecake, and some ribsin one sittingon a curbin the middle of 300,000+ people.
The tickets never come out even, rolls of 20, but things priced in 7 ticket increments. The beer is warm and everyone is sweaty, covered in butter, drunk off cheap miller light and did I mention sweaty? Oh lord, are they sweaty peoplein cut off t-​shirts, MacGregor polyester shorts and more mullets than a truck rally in front of an Alabama Wal-​Mart.
God speed.