Ah, the scent of Wrigley.

One day I will tell my children how I used to live down the street from historic Wrigley Field.

I will tell them how I could see the flags flying on game days and hear the crowd cheering from my back porch.  I will tell them how I’d peek through the outfield gates in March and watch as the stadium slowly came to life.

I will tell them about walking to games, and how I would sometimes buy standing-room-only tickets in the 4th inning on a nice afternoon.

I will tell them about sometimes running into Ryan Dempster at CVS.

But I probably won’t tell them about the smell of stale beer that clung to the sidewalk on which I walked to work this morning, and about the dark spots in corners that might be something spilled, or might be vomit.

I don’t think I’ll tell them about the alternate route home I’ll be taking home tonight in order to avoid hordes of drunk people who whistle at you or walk straight into you or worse, walk straight into mailboxes.

It’s probably not worth mentioning the perfect storm of parking woes when construction meets street cleaning meets game day (happened twice this week).

And I don’t think I’ll tell them about the alley entrance to the Red Line that will smell like pee for the rest of the summer, especially when it rains.

But ah, the convenience of walking to the ballpark and being able to be back home playing bags with your neighbors before they’ve even finished playing “Go Cubs Go”…

Well honestly, I’d trade a few blocks to get rid of the perpetual pee smell.

And I’m off…wish me luck!