When you turn 42, I am here to confirm that you are supposed to wrangle up your boys, drive aimlessly through the city of Chicago, feed your driver (Danny Olszta) directions from five different mouths, end up at a Bears game and party.
Did I mention that said driver wrangled up a suite for us to hang out in at Soldier Field. The running joke of the night was that I tasked Danny a few weeks back that I was entitled to a great 42nd birthday celebration, so he traded in a few paychecks to provide the suite. While that couldn't be further than the truth, it made for some kick ass banter.
Loaded in a suburban, I was joined by my brother Danny's brother, The Rick, his Grandfather, Dick (yes, Dick) and Mark "Meathead" Tews." We were the squares in a round hole, but we made the most of it, consuming thousands of calories, especially when the desert cartpassed by.
Thanks for a great night, fellas.