Two girls set up a picnic on their dad’s snowsuit. A group of boys played touch football. And every so often birds would fly above the heads of the crowd tailgating before the Bears game last Sunday.
But this party wasn’t happening under crisp late-November skies. Overhead was concrete, water pipes and air ducts. Tailgating has gone indoors for many at Soldier Field–underground parking lots have forced fans of the Bears downstairs.
Throughout this inaugural season for the revamped Soldier Field, Chicagoan Chris Durkin has learned a few tricks on getting the best parking spot. He was one of the first to arrive Sunday, and he got his spot, but he wasn’t happy. His green SUV looked lonely in a sea of gray concrete.
“I wanted a parking pass in the South Lot, where you can grill like everyone else,” the season-ticket holder said.
Like many other die-hard Bears fans, Durkin was denied a parking pass in the open-air South Lot and was instead offered a pass to the parking garage, which sits under the north end of the stadium.
So Durkin and friends huddle around the back of his SUV sipping bloody Marys and screwdrivers, snacking on finger foods and reclining on folding chairs–in the middle of a parking garage.
“They suggested picnicking on the lawn outside,” he said between bites of a sandwich. “Who wants to picnic in December?”
Tailgating is like a rowdy picnic, and certain aspects are intrinsic: eating, drinking, grilling. These indoor tailgaters still eat. Many of the few hundred parties had set up buffet tables or converted their truck beds into mini-cafeterias.
But the cooking must be done ahead of time; Soldier Field management doesn’t think indoor grilling is too hot of an idea.
“It’s just common sense not to barbecue [in the garage], but people still try,” said David Shakboua of Standard Parking, who watches over the tailgaters like a neon-jacketed den mother.
Although many garage tailgaters are angry about being assigned to indoor parking, they have learned to adapt. Marty Scaminaci of Bartlett keeps his tosses low when he passes the football to his 10-year-old, Joe. “They should paint the concrete green,” he chuckled.
The Zogman clan of McHenry County has developed an alternative to barbecuing; they cook chili and ribs in a slow cooker plugged into the dashboard lighter of their pickup truck.
“Tailgating is the best part of the game, and we’re experts,” said father Dan. “But we’ve lost some of the experience by being in this garage. I love the new stadium, but some of the fun of tailgating is gone.”
They have legitimate gripes. And, yet, they’re the lucky ones. The top garage level (P4) that Zogman, Scaminaci and Durkin use is reserved for “suite” ticketholders. It’s like a penthouse compared with the lower levels, which are for “club” ticketholders. The garage plunges four stories down and the bottom level (P1) truly feels like the center of the Earth. And as the parking attendants fill this level first, the P1 party is the largest and loudest.
“This is the underworld of tailgating,” said Joey Dignan of Plainfield while downing a bloody Mary. “The people down here are a little stranger.”
Dignan’s group of friends didn’t seem to mind the poor lighting and the cars that roared past them spitting exhaust, but they did take issue with the lack of bathrooms–and, for that matter, floor drains–available to the garage tailgaters.
A few parking lanes over, Jim Danielwicz had traveled from Edmonton, Alberta, for the game. Sitting atop a cooler full of beer and “potato juice” (vodka), he didn’t miss the wintry wind outside but did feel as though he’d devolved.
“We’re like cave people down here,” he said. Cave people, of course, with shrimp cocktails, pulled pork sandwiches and an olive sampler.
“Everything is weird down here,” said parking attendant Shakboua. And he was right. The garage tailgaters partied until kickoff, then saw the Bears trounce the Arizona Cardinals. An hour after the game, the P4 level looked as empty as it had first thing in the morning. And Durkin was back behind his SUV doing a little post-game celebrating.
“This tailgating situation is brutal,” he said. And he seemed to mean it. But the drinks were flowing, the music was pumping, the food was being devoured and it sure looked as though he was having a good time. Garage or no garage.
