Move over queers, it’s time for a new marginalized group of white people to celebrate a milestone.
My dear friends, family, and Pinky readers, I am overjoyed to announce that I have officially become an adult in the eyes and presence of the lord—the infamous Chicago Rat Hole.
Despite rats not being Kosher, I knew God would understand. In fact, it felt like there was a divine force urging me to celebrate my newfound womanhood on the 1900 block of W. Roscoe Street. After all, here’s no better place to celebrate such an event than a cultural touchstone with a rich history.
The Rabbi—or Ratbi if you will, served as our guide for the spiritual occasion. He even brought a small yarmulke and tallit so Splatatouille was dressed appropriately for the event and felt included. After all, we are all God's creatures.
For my bat mitzvah project, I decided I could do the most good in the world by spreading the same joy I acquired from seeing the rat hole to others. In order to carry this out, I spent 6 months scouring the streets of Chicago, lurking in the shadows until I saw a wet slab of cement. That’s when I would pounce. All around the Windy City I dropped various rodents in the molten pavement. I put a beaver in Bucktown, a chinchilla in Chinatown, and a squirrel in the South Loop. One by one, I created a vermin pothole, spreading joy to each neighborhood.
Instead of giving the traditional offerings of loose change, cigarettes, and estradiol pills, guests opted to place checks for $18 ($36 for close friends) and then poured out Manischewitz wine into the hole as libations.
We performed the Hora, everyone hand in hand, weaving in and out of circles and dancing around the hole. The neighbors thought we were performing a cult ritual, but as I sat in my chair, hoisted into the air above the sidewalk imprint, I didn’t have a care in the world.
I want to finish this off with the start of my favorite prayer from the night, the Aliyah: Baruch et Adonai ham’vorRAT