Once a year, every year, the monsters come, terrifying the friendly streets of Andersonville. Hordes of ghouls, their skin pale and ripped, maraud across the Chicago neighborhood. Blood splatters. A canvas painted by Rockwell fragments and is replaced by the chaos of Romero.
Or so go the stories.
I had heard the dark rumors myself, whispers by drunks in pubs, faceless posts in supernatural chat rooms. Like you, I laughed and scoffed at them. I chalked their ravings up to lunacy or desperate pleas for attention. After all, everyone wants a Warhol moment these days, his or her fifteen minutes of fame.
Still, despite their inherent unreliability, the stories stuck with me, teasing me like some damned itch that couldn’t be scratched. There was a consistency in these tales that could not be explained. I had to investigate these accounts for myself. So I traveled to Andersonville on April 28th to follow up on a promising lead. That afternoon, I got my first glimpse of the horrible truth.
The dead really do walk among us.
I witnessed a legion of zombies shambling along Clark Street, chanting, “What do we want? Brains! When do we want them? Braaiiins!!!†I watched in horror as they crowded through the door of Simon’s Tavern. Good God, I thought, those regulars are going to be massacred.
I don’t know what I expected to find as I followed the creatures into the bar. Sheer and utter carnage, I suppose. Instead, I was greeted by a jovial group of the undead drinking pints and playing Depeche Mode on the jukebox.
Unlike the monsters from the movies, these zombies had lost none of their individuality. If anything, their reanimation imbued in them a freedom of expression not before witnessed. I met zombie versions of James Bond, Katniss from the “Hunger Games,†and Batman and Robin. A living dead cast of the Wizard of Oz stopped to pose for a picture.
(Oddly enough, the regulars sat silent, motionless, staring into their beers. They wore blank expressions. Just who were the zombies?)
This all begged a question: what necromancer was responsible for this unholy resurrection? I asked one of the zombies.
The answer: local sketch and improv company, pH Comedy Theater.
This year marked the fifth anniversary of their Chicago Zombie Pub Crawl, a fundraiser to support the theater. Established in 2002, they are known for their interactive shows. Audience participation is key and can shape a show’s outcome. They seek to be a fun and local alternative to the tired theater formula.
This year pH (so named for their group chemistry) took a huge step forward and leased permanent space in March at 1515 N. Berwyn. Their new space is gorgeous but remains a work in progress. The Chicago Zombie Pub Crawl is an important fundraising tool to help them procure “everything from toilet paper and light bulbs to sound boards and lights…plus something for you to sit on!â€
I had a couple of beers with some great zombies (Donna, Brian, Vince, and Jess to name a few) and revised my theory on the nefarious nature of the walking dead. Inspired, I later stopped by pH Comedy Theater’s website and made a donation.
It only makes sense. I’ll be going to a show soon, and I’m going to need someplace to sit. Unlike zombies, I need to rest my bones.
