As the street festival season concludes with all the Oktoberfests going on across the city, so concludes the era of watching live music outside while drinking and eating and jumping up and down on a soon-to-be potholed street. I for one am glad festival season is over.
Wicker Park Fest is one of many festivals I have tried to enjoy over the years, but once you pay the “suggested donation,” fork over eight bucks for beer, get bumped into by one of numerous bros in those rompers who greet one another and begin every other sentence with “brah!” (followed by a pause that is a tad bit too long), and maybe get pickpocketed or bump into some casual acquaintance whose name you can’t remember and they insist you hang out with them and their obnoxious summer fling they will call “bae” because maybe they don’t know his name, the appeal of drinking on the street has lost its luster.
Also, it’s hot, And why are there kids here?! (Isn’t that what those summer camps are for?)