The strange mix of opposites found at the intersection continued. Bars and topless clubs, fine. But a center that, according to its Web site, “has been improving urban life for children on Chicago 's North Side for almost 60 years”? Somehow, I'm having a problem understanding that one. I suppose this is the school-of-hard-knocks teaching approach wherein small children are expected to learn quickly about right and wrong, about making good choices amid a myriad of potential bad ones.

The note read “clubbers practice at [address] enter in south parking lot.” The word “lot” was underlined, making me think it had extra significance. Those kids were really going to learn a valuable lesson, the most likely option of which is how to go clubbing, which will better serve them at the other establishments in the general vicinity.

For sheer fly-in-the-face-of-logic reasoning, I'm going to have to give this section an inflated score.

“Work play dine shop”: The Weed Street Big Brother is watching. Rating: 5.4
As if serving as the gateway to Weed Street fun, a sign over the intersection of Weed and Clybourn Avenue admonished me to “work play dine shop,” hopefully not all in the same trip. Apparently the directions were for the monosyllabic only. I did two of four, which wasn't bad for a whirlwind tour late at night: I was working on this piece, and I most certainly played. However, it's bad form to tell me to dine and shop, yet not have any restaurants or stores open to do so. Points off for that – nevermind what time of the day it was.

The closest I came to fulfilling the four of my criteria was at Hogs and Honeys, where the atmosphere was dirty, the bartenders attractively disheveled and the drinks, well, full of alcohol, I guess. Bonus: The bar's marketing director was playing Golden Tee, waiting for the night to start . The strange part about Hogs was that, while I was dressed for work and carrying a shoulder bag, I didn't feel out of place. It was that kind of joint: one of those places brokers and investment bankers go to blow off steam, throw a few back and watch attractive girls dressed up for the night ride a mechanical bull. Since I was the only person in there with a pen and a pad of paper, I had to ask the bartenders about the whole scene, in the name of journalism, of course.

Her reply was simple: “I've seen some crazy shit. The strippers come in around midnight .” Sounds like the “play” part of the intersection's motto is firmly under control.

Nicholas Auto Body: A sound business model. Rating: 3.4
There's a school of business thought that says the home-based approach is critical in gaining a rapport with customers. The van for Nicholas Auto Body, however, took that to a new level with its obviously hand-painted back window of an old-school van – we're talking faux wood trim, a ride my younger brother would call a “woody” – and writing so small it's near-impossible to read.

For one minute, let's suspend the belief that dictates a company excel in its own field, such as seeing an impeccably dressed fashion designer or an IT company with a stellar Web site, and wonder what would happen were the converse to be true. Could you possibly have a horribly dressed designer? Would you trust a company that deals in computers and technology if it had a badly managed site? The answer, Nicholas Auto Body, is usually no. Call me shallow, but for some reason, were I to see a dinged-up woody van from the mid-‘80s pull into my driveway to do body work on my car, I may suddenly decide I didn't need the assistance after all.

In closing, Weed Street and the general environs.
The whole place was a study in opposites: children's center vs. strip clubs. Garish green neon palm trees and trendy upscale eateries. I can see why this is the Vegas of Chicago – the only thing missing is a casino. Off-track betting will have to do.