The new rude
Imagine finding strangers sitting on your lawn chairs, drinking beer and scarfing down sandwiches on your deck. You’d ask them to leave, right? Now imagine them telling you where to go. “Rude goes way beyond slamming a door in someone’s face or flipping them off on the highway,” says 48-year-old Wrigleyville resident Mike Porcaro, whose property has often been besieged by rowdy Cubs fans. “I had to chain my barbecue pit on the deck because people felt compelled to open the lid to look inside, as if they were going to find the Holy Grail or a mini-Sammy Sosa.”