Da Bears

So I'm sitting in the terminal at O'Hare today, minding my business because that's what I do. A cart pulls up, which usually means one of two things: old people or important people. I am neither, so I don't get a cart. I didn't pay much attention (see: minding my business), but the girl next to me pokes me in the arm and says "is that... is that who I think it is"? So I give the cart a good once over, and sure enough... it's Mike Ditka!



He gets to board first because he's either old or important... by now probably both. So as I'm getting on the plane I ask the flight attendant if Mike got on our plane - since there were two planes at one gate - and sure enough... there he was right across the aisle from me! We're flying in one of those soda cans with wings, so he may as well have been in my lap.

I said "hi" but he spent most of his time chatting it up with the lady sitting next to him who had absolutely NO idea who he was. He could not have been a nicer guy, especially given his record as a bruiser and a coach. I wanted so bad to lean over and say "da bears"... but I thought today is not a good day to get a broken nose, what with Christmas fast approaching and all.