Fry street in
Chicago is one block north of
Chicago Avenue. It is an incredibly short length of road, stretching for only the three blocks between Ashland and Bishop. The street is incredibly narrow; only a little bit wider than most Chicago alleys. The alley itself behind Fry street is proportionate to the street, making it so narrow that garbage trucks can't pass through. Hence my fellow Fry Street residents have our garbage cans standing proudly next to our front walkways and the garbage trucks come barrelling down the street to collect it, blocking traffic for long periods of time.
Parallel parking on such a teeny street takes skill and practice. Especially in the middle of
harsh Chicago winters such as this one, when the huge encasements of snow surrounding each car have to be
strategically dug out in a way that allows each person some room to maneuver. It takes incredible planning but results in an extremely intricate network of customized little snowless segments people are proud of once they've made them.
The Chipp Inn is a cute little
hole-in-the-wall bar on the corner of Fry and
Greenview. It has a pool table, a few scattered chairs and
$2 bottles. We've been there a few times; its convenient if nothing else.
My house is on Fry Street.
Guy Incognito lives with me there, along with our two furry
quadropeds.
Sarcasmo has been there. Feel free to stop by, if you're ever in the neighborhood.