Farley odyssey

A Pub Crawl of Farley's Last Night In Chicago
March 31, 2006

note: Farls played college rugby for Marquette University
This story was written in April, 2006. I sent it to Super Boy for editing and it never returned. I am posting the first and only draft. The story needs to be told!
Pictures SOON

Sitting on my couch, watching the E! True Hollywood story about Chris Farley, it occurred to me that this was much more than a tragedy, this could be a fun pub crawl. Apparently after 3 days of binge drinking and taking drugs, Farley, former prop for Marquette University, succumbed to an overdose and died in his Chicago apartment. Was it morbid to plan a trip to Chicago to party in the same bars as Farls had died? I didn’t believe so and I sent word to friends that we would be heading out on April Fool’s weekend.

I knew Super Boy would be into the trip. He quickly started designing t-shirts to be worn by the attendees. I thought Fokker might want to go, but turns out he had his knee cut on the week prior. We sent word to TC and MJ up in NYC who agreed to join us. We were set. We could also have a large group of idiots from Washington DC there. PAC RFC was playing Chicago Lions on Saturday. Word of our adventure spread throughout the ranks of our club, with many of the social players enjoying the idea and the more serious hoping we wouldn’t be able to meet up with them at all.

The night before our flight, Jesse and I had beers with Jackie, Christy McGinty, Jason Johns and his fiancé at the Bottom Line. Our flight was at 615 AM so we would have to get up around 5 AM. Our night of drinking continued until well after 2 AM and we woke up around 620 AM. We arrived at the airport and quickly were assigned new seats flying stand by on the 1030 AM flight (which was much better.) We went home, got some food and were back at the airport early enough to catch our flight.

We were seated on aisle seats in the exit row. We ordered our Bloody Marys and beers and sat back for the short flight. We tried to get more drinks, but they shut down bar service early on ATA. That was a good thing because we hit heavy winds flying into Chicago and I nearly lost my lunch being tossed around like a kite. As we were approaching the runway the pilot kicked in the after burners and we actually accelerated onto the runway tossing everyone forward, my seat belt gouging deep into my recently re-acquired gut. Shoes, beer cans, and newspapers spewed down the aisle and we all sat in disbelief. I held my lunch in and we quickly made our way to the first airport bar for our first taste of Chicago. BTW, Midway has a bar every other entrance. I love Midway.

TC had arrived earlier and we were to join him at the Embassy Suites where his company had picked up the tab for a bit of short business he had arranged. His meeting done he was ready for lunch, some sites, and then drinking.

We meandered around the terminal for a bit, trying to find my luggage and ran into a guy from Nashville RFC who was wearing the same TCB emblem Elvis wore and Super Boy had been talking about that morning (for a tattoo.) We then got directions to the subway from an old Mick who had small nubs for teeth (chewing on pebbles we assumed) and headed for the Yellow line to downtown.

After a 20 minute ride we found our way to the Embassy and knocked on our door, where TC awaited. He threw on the “Finding Heidi” t-shirt and we were out the door for lunch. He said he would pay for our lunch and we wandered looking for somewhere to eat. We then decided we wanted to eat steaks. We jumped into a cab and asked to be brought to Gibbons. Our Cab driver pointed out it was actually called “Gibsons.” We laughed at Cooper’s mistaking a Monkey for a famed Steak Joint. We arrived, ordered great big steaks and realized that the tab would be impossible to cover up (he was going to tell his boss it was a business expense). We enjoyed our meal, a couple beers and headed down to the Adler Planetarium to take in some actual sites before getting wasted.

We arrived at the Adler and took a brief tour of the facility. There were some interesting sites and then it was time for the show: “Space in your Face.” The show was alright, but there were moments of true hilarity when Super Boy shouted out the answer of “Your Anus” and the narrator of the show correcting him pronouncing it “yure in us.” Of course parents around us cringed and covered their ears for the rest of the show in case the big guy in a bright yellow shirt might say something else horrible. He didn’t, but we did make fun of the narrator and quickly headed out the doors searching for new destinations which would include a bar.

Everyone at the Adler, as well as Chicago itself, wanted to know what the deal was with our Chris Farley Shirts. We explained that he died after binging in 4 or 5 bars and were going to go on a pub crawl to those bars. One person asked if he went to the Adler before he Overdosed. TC, quick with the comeback gave the affirmative and pointed to the Aristotle Cafeteria. “Free Based there.”

Cooper reminded us that the Embassy Suites has a “manager’s complimentary drink hours” from 530 pm to 730 pm. We rushed outside to find a cab, but there were none. We then chanced a bus to avoid the rainstorm that had blown in from the west. We arrived a few blocks from our destination (about 17) and decided to walk the rest of the way.

As we walked, the winds picked up and we joked about why they call Chicago the Big Apple….instead it should be the windy apple. We made it back to our pad and went upstairs to dry off a bit before the 530 happy hour.

Drinks were limited to 1 per person per trip to the bar. In other words, you would have to drink and then stand in line and drink and stand in line. By the time we were done, the bartenders loved us so much they didn’t even care that we were taking 4 drinks back to our table. MJ finally showed up and we were complete…..4 rugby guys wearing bright yellow shirts with Chris Farley’s face on it. It was wonderful. Everyone in the hotel approached and asked about the shirts, to which we would tell them the “memorial to Farl’s Pub Crawl.” Finding Heidi Tour was well on its way.

We jumped into a cab and headed down to Rush and Division (the Gold Coast.) The bars are a bit more upscale, but it was still early and we were hoping to get into the bars Farls drank at the fateful night he died. First on the list was the Lodge (or Lounge as MJ kept calling it). As we passed a few bars we heard random chatter from the patrons. “Did you see the Chris Farley Shirts…..they must be going to the Lodge.” “Heidi? Oh yeah, the prostitute Farley died with.” “Farley death pub crawl? What a brilliant idea.” It was obvious that the city of Chicago approved of our morbid idea.

We entered, what seemed to be a wooden structure, curious to find out where the bar was hidden. It wasn’t. The bar was approximately 20 yards long and maybe 10 yards wide. One floor. This is not what I expected from the Gold Coast, however, it is what I expected from Farls. We were instantly approached by a lady swearing she knew Farley and that he used to sit right “there.” But his seat changed every time she told the story. She then asked about our shirts and told us that the door guy that was working on Farley’s last night would be in later that night. We loaded the juke box up and were enjoying some Chicago tunes (Soul Man from Blues Brother movie.) After a couple rounds we decided we should hit Mothers (the bar from About Last Night) and then up to Wriggleyville. As we were on our way out, a couple tall chicks approached TC and asked if he wanted to stay a while. Seemed that their $25 all you can drink special would last til Midnight. It was a fundraiser for their Volleyball team. SB and MJ both said we needed to get moving. TC reluctantly moved out with us.

We crossed the street and found our way into Mothers basement. Of course the movie was totally NOT filmed at Mothers. For one, there was no one in this Mothers and the movie Mothers was packed. Also, I don’t recall Mothers being in a basement in the movie. Long story short….we entered a dark basement bar with 8 women and 3 guys playing pool. I ordered a round for everyone and sent 8 shots over to the ladies. They seemed completely uninterested in my friends (as my friends were completely not interested in them.) We decided it was time to leave and jumped in a cab to Wriggleyville.

The cab driver cracked up the entire drive up to Wriggleyville as our conversation was on the relatively drunken side. We got out in front of the Irish Oak and looked up a busy street of bars. Earlier in the evening I had been telling TC to not tease MJ. I wanted MJ to be fun MJ, “you know the kinda MJ that randomly will jump on your back for a drunken piggy back ride.” Yes, I am easily amused.

In Tonight’s Performance, the part of MJ will be played by TC from NYC. TC jumped on Super Boys back and SB nearly went down, catching himself and then stumbling a bit further. We then walked over to the Merkle (that name isn’t correct, but I don’t remember the right one…..) and found a nice bar, not too crowded for 9 pm. We ordered up drinks and everyone started chatting with girls. I stumbled around the bar, made some friends, but decided I wanted to see the rest of this famous “Wriggleyville” and walked across to the Irish Oak.

I arrived, ordered a beer and started chatting when the guys appeared. They were teasing me about pouting and leaving the bar and told me they had to follow me. “The T-shirt gig only works if we are all together.” I went to the bathroom and ran into a midget downstairs. That sent me running out of the bar like the Ghostbusters in the intro scene at the library. I quickly made my way over to John Barleycorn. It was huge. And crowded. I had stayed in line a long time and decided I would have to at least have a beer.

After about 15 minutes I realized the boys were right (the t shirts needed to be together) and headed back to Merkles looking for the guys. And I found them there. We tore up the dance floor, shouted at girls, and explained the shirts many times. By the time last call was called, we were ready to go home and found our way outside.

SB and TC kept asking people about an “After Party.” I really just wanted to eat a “Chicago Hot Dog.” I was amazed there were no street vendors any where to be found. TC and SB found a couple girls that would deliver them to an after hours party if I would delete a picture I had of them (was not flattering.) They attempted to get a cab and MJ and a girl he had met started chatting with me. The girl was a big Cubs fan and told me I HAD to see Wrigley Field. So we all walked up 3 blocks to the field. It was dark, but there it was. I had a moment remembering how many games I had watched on WGN TV with my grandma (She was a Cubs fan) and then we were off to find a hot dog.

The girl swore she knew of the best hot dogs in town and we cabbed over to the neighborhood. MJ and I approached the counter and it was a mad house. Dozens of people screaming to the cooks. The Cooks were screaming at the customers. It was chaos. We were chosen and we quickly said, “4 hot dogs with everything on them.” MJ paid the lady $20 and we waited. The lady then came back and said, “that is $17.” MJ said he already paid her. She disagreed. They started screaming at him. He started screaming at them. The chaos was contagious. I walked away when I heard something about calling the police. MJ cursed at them some more and followed me.

We walked across the street to 7/11. I figured a hot dog is a hot dog, but the girl we had met told us to go to the Pizza place up the street. We again followed her and found a pizza place with a lot of good food (including hot dogs.) They laughed at our story of the horrible events just prior and we dined. The girl told me I could crash at her place, but I refused. The thought of listening to MJ and this girl hook up didn’t seem ideal. That is when I realized I hadn’t bought porn on the trip yet. Must remember the porn the next day. I jumped into a cab after eating most of the pizza and rode back to our hotel. I entered and found no one was back yet.

I sat on the chair and passed out for about an hour when SB and TC arrive. After some details shared about the hot dog fiasco, I gave SB and TC a big bite of my remaining pizza. I put the pizza away and said I was gonna eat the rest for breakfast. SB went to the fridge and grabbed the pizza and tried to eat it. I told him he couldn’t have it and things sorta got dark. I took the pizza and threw it at him (hitting the chair). Then I jumped on him in the pull out bed and started punching him in the ribs and arm. Then I got up and screamed something at him. He got up asking me what was wrong. I then started grabbing coffee mugs, water glasses, and ash trays and throwing them at his feet saying “dance bitch.” None of this made sense. At first I was only kidding, but the more events transpired, I became a berserker. My joke had become an Aggressive Joke, something we would all laugh about the next day.” I scooped the remainder of the pizza off the chair and gave him the pizza and crawled up with him and nuzzled. I woke up cuddling with SB and we decided it was time for “free Brunch.” WE tried to wake up TC, but it was a no go. We needed to get the food. We also wanted a bloody mary. The hotel bar was closed til 11 AM. It was only 10 AM. We were screwed. We got TC up and he ate. We stared at the room. Broken glass everywhere. SB said, “I didn’t know Motley Crue stayed with us last night.” We cleaned up a bit and headed down to the Red Headed Bar for brunch.

We exited our room, all wearing our shirts again, and headed to the Red Head. It was closed. Then it was off to Excalibur, “the most haunted bar in the world.” Apparently in the 1900s, a ship had flipped over on the lake, killing over 300 people. This bar, at the time, was a church, so the turned it into a morgue for all the bodies. SciFi Channel did a special on it at one point. In any case, the church turned night club was also closed. We then saw a Hard Rock Café. We almost entered before deciding there had to be something better. We crossed the street and passed the “largest McDonalds in the western world,” and entered a rib place. Only beer on tap. We left. Finding a bloody mary had become a near impossible feat.

We saw down the street an Irish Bar. We figured it too was closed, but then SB said, “Wait, there are people in there.” So we entered. Inside we found 15 people watching Rugby on TV. SB and TC sat down at a small table. I made my way to the bar. We then had the prettiest Bloody Mary ever. Hurricane glass with Celery Salt on the rim. In the drink we found an onion, pickle folded like a Taco filled with horse radish, and an olive with two long Celery stalks sticking out the top. It tasted pretty darn good too. After a couple BM and a couple Mimosas, we switched to beer.

Around 1 PM, MJ called wondering how bad we had trashed his room (we left him a message.) He then was to make his way to the bar. TC called him and asked where he was. MJ said, “I am across the street from the protest. This penis party has to go, Hey hey, ho ho.” TC screams, “I see you man, why are you playing the drums in the protest?” A few minutes later, as MJ arrived we realized it wasn’t him playing the drums, but just another guy wearing a bright mustard colored shirt. MJ quickly threw back a few BMs and we were all chatting about the night’s exploits.

We soon made friends with the guys sitting next to us. They had flown over from Ireland to watch Wrestlemania. We laughed and had a few drinks with the boys. They had no idea who Chris Farley was, but decided we were pretty cool and wanted to party with us anyways. Then came a few guests we had apparently met at the hotel the night before. They had a few drinks with us as well.

Around 4 pm (5 hours later) Super Boy’s cousin came in. He seemed like a pretty good guy. We chatted and drank more beers and switched to a few Caucasians (White Russians) and decided it was getting close to time to be drinking at the hotel bar for free. TC argued that daily didn’t include weekends, but we finally convinced him and we were off. Time for the check.

She brought me my credit card (had already run it). $230! I said, “You ran it?” We played possible ways to deal with the problem and decided I would pick up the tab and they could get me cash or buy me drinks later. It was off to the Hotel bar.

On the way, SB’s cousin told us he sorta got into trouble with his wife the night before and was probably gonna get into more trouble for hanging out with us. That is the right idea. We get to the bar and chat about this and that. TC had met one of the guests at the Kellerman (Irish bar) and she had told him she loved to play her keyboard. She then brought the keyboard down and started playing songs. It was very weird. After some random conversations with her troupe, I walked away, trying to catch TC on the way, but he wanted to go back and say goodbye. SB’s cousin, who had been a bar promoter in Chicago for some time, had called a few of the “Miller Lite” girls and asked if they wanted to hang out with us. We were supposed to meet them at a bar called ROCK IT.

Sounded promising. 80s metal being played non stop at a bar. My kind of place. Until I found the place. It was a disaster. The place totally wasn’t my element. Hipster Metal bar. Weird in so many ways. We found a couched area and sat. We started ordering drinks and enjoying the music when a bachelorette party arrived. I soon was whisked off to meet the bachelorette’s mother who clung on to me like some boy toy, until her daughter arrived. “Mom….not with him….he’s fat.” She walked away with the daughter. I decided Miller Lite girls or not, I would not be staying in the likes of a club that so openly would fat man hate. Farls would not have approved. Reality, he would have probably fat Chippendales the girl until she collapsed, however, I had a better idea. Go back to Wriggleyville and find our teammates who played that day and lost. They were most likely up at the Merkle right then. Before I could go anywhere Super Boy swept into action lecturing the woman about rudeness and the proper term would be big boned. It warmed the heart. Or maybe it was the 3000 candles Super Boy’s cousin had slowly collected and put around our “booth.” Were we sending out smoke signals to the Miller Lite girls? Were we lighting our window so they could find us in the fog? I stood on the couch and opened the window to get a breath of fresh air. I had been drinking heavily for the past 12 hours and really couldn’t stand the heat of the club any longer. A bouncer approached and told me I had to get down. Apparently a chick had fallen out that same window the night before. I called shenanigans. He was trying to keep us from taking it to the next level.

I stumbled out of the bar and caught a cab and directed it to Wriggleyville. Somewhere along the way I took a short cat nap and when I woke up I was in Valhalla. I looked at the cab’s meter: $10.15. It was that inexpensive to cab across town. I liked Chicago even more. It can costs $6 to cab 6 blocks in DC. I walked into a 7/11 and ordered a hot dog and started walking up the street trying to find my teammates. As I stumbled by, Cups and Butchy, who turned and yelled my name. I turn and they are getting cash and were headed to the gay neighborhood. I chose not ask why and continued on my journey.

The boys had told me the rest of the team was at Cubby Bear. I entered and found a few of the guys. Soon I was encircled with teammates wondering how the tour had been. I explained I was still on the journey and they needed to join me at Merkles. There were several guys that were interested, however, no one seemed to want to leave the bar they were in. There was a black metal band on stage and bar was relatively empty. I told them they could enjoy the live band, I was headed south. Two blocks later, I entered Merkles…the scene of all the fun from the night before. The door guy ushered me to the front of the line and asked where the rest of the guys were. I laughed and told him they were stuck at Rock It. He sighed and I entered the bar. Bartenders brought me my drinks (how could they really remember me?) I was back on the dance floor. A new group of girls were there from the night before. And they out numbered the guys 8 to 1. (maybe I was seeing double……in any case, there were a lot of women and very few men. Even less men on the dance floor. The lights came on and I jumped in a cab and headed back to the hotel. I told the cabby that if he drove by a 7/11 on the way back I would appreciate if he stopped. We passed the hotel and he dropped me off at a 7/11 two blocks away. I had received a call from the boys and they needed food and beer. I brought up a case of beer and a bunch of food. The counter clerk refused to sell me beer because it apparently had just turned 2 AM. I argued to no avail and walked back to put the beer back. I then grabbed a bottle of wine and put it under my coat and walked out.

I got back to the hotel, we ate and drank and passed out.

The next day MJ and TC were in a rush to catch their flight. Both were running very late. SB and I meandered down to the buffet for breakfast. Our flight wasn’t for a bit longer so we took our time. We then finished off the wine and headed back to the Irish Crown to see if Jesse’s jacket was still there from Friday night.

We arrived and ordered a couple beers and witnessed the making of a great Bloody Mary. We quickly ordered a few. We knew our flight was at 3 something, but we weren’t sure when the flight actually was. We figured we better leave around 230 PM. We could cab there in about 30 minutes.....hoping our flight was closer to 4 then 3 pm.

We randomly chatted with the bartender who knew someone important as well as the name of the band, that apparently Jesse had partied with the night before. Random. We began to think about other random things from the weekend.

Also a strange vortex had been formed between the Hancock Building, Wriggleyville and our hotel. Everywhere we went, people approached us to find out if our tour was a success….we had single handedly met every person in a 67 square block radius and they were all sucked into our shirts wanting details of our adventures.

We apparently had been calling every bar in town by the wrong name all weekend. Friday night MJ was talking to a girl and mentioned we were at the Lounge. The girl replied, “Do you mean the Lodge? You aren’t from around here are you?” We also had been calling the Kerryman, the Kellerman all weekend. I still don’t know the real name of Merkles.

Super Boy and TC had actually found their after hour party on Friday night, although Super Boy doesn’t remember it at all.

These types of drunk reflections allow for a lot of laughs but a few scares as well. Punching Jesus is a good place to go over your weekend in detail and disseminate myth from reality. From my view point, we really had experienced one of the greatest weekends ever.

We left the bar and got into a cab. We told the cab driver to take us to Midway, but he needed to stop by a 7/11 on the way out of town. We entered and bought some beer. I got to the counter and saw that they sold porn and hard liquor at the 7/11. It became clear that this was the greatest city in the world. I bought a small bottle of Jim Beam and a Hustler. While deciding what porn magazine I wanted, the clerk looked at me and said, ‘You boys probably want something from the bottom row.” I glanced at the top row and they were “Slick Boy,” “Tight Male Buns,” and “Rod and Steve.” Apparently we had stopped in the gay neighborhood. I quickly looked for Cups and Butchy. I didn’t see them.

We started down the road and I cracked a beer. Our Cab driver didn’t seem to mind. We then started chatting with him. Luis, who had moved to the US from Columbia, had been married for 44 years. We congratulated him. Our conversations swung from new immigrant hatred for the United States (“I love this country, I say to any of those people who move here and don’t like it – GO HOME”) to parties, our porn magazine and Columbia. At one point I said, “Luis, I like you. I will call you Uncle Luis.” He laughed. He then started calling me his nephew Juan Tomas. Laughter continued when he invited us to go to Columbia. “I would take you to my family reunion and my family would come up and say, ‘Luis, who are the two 6’3” 300 pound white guys you are with?’” He continued, “I would reply, ‘these are my nephews Juan Tomas and Jeffe Lapierre.” (YOU NEED TO DO THE SPANISH SOUNDING VERSION….NOT ONLY ARE MY ACCENTS HORRIBLE BUT SO ARE MY TYPING OF THEM.)

We got out of the cab and Uncle Luis gave us his card and told me that we needed to call him next time we were in town and he would chauffeur us around town. “I will stop at a light and tell the person in the cab, ‘you must get out, my nephews are in town.’” We thanked him and were off to the airport.

Our flights were at 3:59 pm and we had made it in plenty of time. We ordered some sandwiches and rushed to our airline. We made our flight and were happy to be sitting again on the aisle in a more or less empty airplane. We mixed some cocktails for our flight and continued to take it to the next level. As Super Boy perused the Hustler, I tried to write in my journal. It didn’t work and I resigned myself to drinking Bourbon and remembering a weekend that we consistantly took it to the next level.

Monday afternoon email quotes:

MT:  I feel so very very very miserable.  The pickling of my organs is nearly complete.  I just want to die.

MJ:  I've got the shakes. I can barely hold my hands still to type.

TC:  I have the shakes and I was nodding off at a meeting with my boss

SB:  I'm *glad* to hear that everyone feels as bad as I do.  I thought I was just getting old and useless.