Chicago summer is an ephemeral SOB. If you want to make the most of it, you’ve gotta set some goals. Back in May I made a 2015 summer bucket list—or as I prefer to call it, a “sand bucket list” (if only to make an already obnoxious phrase even more obnoxious).
-ride the water taxi to Chinatown for dinner (check)
Anyway, the event is basically a government-approved excuse to clown around and reread Stephen King’s It and watch reruns of Bozo the Clown and maybe take up krumping. According to the official website—if you consider stuff written in comic sans “official”—National Clown Week grew into International Clown Week in 1991, but most people in the industry just call it Clown Week. Suffer from coulrophobia, fear of clowns? You might as well deem it your worst nightmare.
“She’s more than just a clown,” Too Sweet said proudly of Giggles, explaining that her daughter practices several circus arts, including tight rope and lyra (aerial acrobatics on a hula hoop suspended from the ceiling).
Rain began to fall on the clown parade, and the revelers—some with their makeup already streaked—dispersed to the cemetery parking lot. Paddy was headed to her car but turned back to say, as if in summary: “You know, I’ve never come across anything I’ve enjoyed more than being a clown. I’ve met a lot of nice people, and had a lot of good times.” I should hire Paddy for my next birthday party.
