One year, my old roommate Gary and I decided to go to the Cubs season opener in Cincinnati. It was actually closer for us to go there, than it would have to been for us to go to a game at Wrigley in Chicago. We got down there early, in anticipation for the opening day parade. We parked and found a very small, but incredibly packed bar across the street from the stadium. We ended up talking to some guy who was a Cincinnati bankruptcy attorney at the bar, and we asked him if he knew of any good places to grab some lunch that were within walking distance of the stadium. We suggested a microbrewery that was not too far away. Gary and I walked over there, and put our names on the list and headed over to their bar. We ended up getting seated pretty quickly, and enjoyed both their burgers and the beer immensely. We had great seats for the game, and got there early enough to see George W. Bush throw out the first pitch. While we were sitting there, somebody tapped me on the shoulder. A secret service agent told me I was under arrest…for being a Cubs fan.