It was my fault for working at home in the morning and taking a later train downtown. It happened at Montrose. I looked out the window as the train slowed and saw two dozen 9 year olds getting ready to board. But, just in case we missed their entrance, when the door opened, they squealed. All of them. And then again when the train lurched forward. One announced she had chocolate chip cookies. Another forgot her sweater. They all looked happy and fizzy and Irishish. One of the chaperones asked me if I thought it was too early to start drinking. Not in Chicago. Even if it is just 10 in the morning. Happy St Patrick’s Day.