This column originally appeared as part of the Tribune Content Agency Humor Hotel feature April 1, 2005.

It was one of those days Chicagoans like to call “Fake Spring.” At 5:30 p.m. temperatures hovered in the high 60s. Scores of young couples, accompanied by their children, their bikes and their strollers descended on city parks for late afternoon fun, knowing snow could easily fall that same week. And it would.

After all, this is Chicago in March.

I joined my niece, her husband and their 5-month-old son at South Lakeview Park, a three-quarter-acre green space crammed into a neighborhood of renovated two-flat structures and populated by families desperate to hang on to city living a little while longer before the inevitable move to the suburbs and wide open play areas.

More than 50 children tumbled down slides or chased one another through the park’s confines. Their parents, some sipping White Claws, High Noons and other Gen Z-favored beverages, watched to the best of their abilities. Happy shrieks filled the air.

“We’d better get in line for the swings,” my niece said as the four of us approached the chaos.

“There’s a LINE?” I replied. “For the SWINGS?”

There was.

We Don’t Do Lines in America

I’ve waited in line for Bruce Springsteen tickets, amusement park rides and, although I’m not proud to admit it, the chance to enter the world’s largest Starbucks on Michigan Avenue. But not playground equipment. Also, I know that when it comes to waiting in lines, we have the patience of White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt listening to a question posed by CNN.

I expected a parent to stroll up, whip out a plastic card designating membership in the “Frequent Swing Club” and say her child was therefore entitled to the next available swing.

“This city needs more parks. And more swings,” I said to my niece. She didn’t argue.

The following day, at approximately the same time and in similar weather conditions, I happened upon Noethling Park, a mere half mile from South Lakeview. Although slightly smaller, it appeared positively huge, due to its lack of population. No children were present because no playground equipment existed. The park’s only occupants were two dogs, frolicking happily while their owners chatted on a nearby bench.

Since I’m certain dogs can talk, I could only imagine what they were saying to one another.

“We won. We are now loved more than children.”

It certainly appears that way.

Incidentally, Noethling Park is also known as “Wiggly Field,” and boasts, on the neighborhood association’s website, to be “Chicago’s first official dog exercise and play area.” The park’s rules include a strict “no food” rule. For both dogs and humans.

Let a Dog Nuzzle You…Right Off Its Turf

Sorry, new moms who may just need a bench for nursing. Ditto to moms of toddlers who feel Wiggly Field would make an ideal location for a spring picnic. Move along. Unless you are a dog, there is no place for you here. Try South Lakeview Park. It’s easy to spot. Just look for the swing line.

Later that week, I was relaying the “dogs over humans” story to a friend at an upscale Italian restaurant in the West Loop. This being a Friday night, the restaurant bustled with activity. Looking around, I only saw adults. No children were on the premises.

 A table for eight sat empty next to us. But not for long.

A party of nine strolled in. Four couples and one dog. I don’t excel at identifying dog breeds at first glance. This one was small, white, dressed in a sweater and cradled in its female owner’s arms. Eventually she placed the canine under her seat. While talking to my friend and simultaneously eavesdropping, I could tell the first 10 minutes of conversation among the couples revolved around the dog.

Since I’m certain dogs can understand human language, I am convinced this dog was thinking, “I, too, have won. My human cannot live without me. Even for a 90-minute meal featuring fedellini arrabiata and sauteed broccolini.

I left before the party had completed its meal, so I’m not sure if they planned to continue their evening.

But the group looked as if they would easily be comfortable in a trendy nightclub with a strict dress code, a two-beverage minimum and a bouncer making sure nobody under 21 entered the establishment.

Unless the underaged guest was a dog. Come on in!