And so the other cool things from the weekend in South Bend (via Chicago).

Notre Dame's band -- the nation's oldest university marching band, we're told -- plans halftime shows around popular music, usually following a theme. Sometimes it's popular music from back in the day -- Sinatra, big band, etc. -- other times, it's contemporary.

Saturday's show featured "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen, introduced by the M.C. with a reference to its use in Wayne's World, opening up the song to a whole new generation (which, of course, it did).

Considering the length of the opening number (which was arranged into an abbreviated version, yet still covered the essential changes in the tune), the show was reduced to two songs instead of the regular three or four. The second song?

"Livin' On A Prayer" by Bon Jovi.

The M.C. began by saying that Bon Jovi is as popular as ever on the Notre Dame campus, and I chuckled a little, skeptical at first. I'm from New Jersey and I know how popular Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi are back here, but I'm not naive enough to believe that the same enthusiasm is present across America. But the student section, which began just one section to the right of mine at the game, roared its approval.

The song featured the band's familiar dance number -- usually one section will place their instruments on the ground and break it down into a little choreographed routine. Only this time, most of the entire ensemble boogied while continuing to play. There were sections that went silent for a few steps, but then they picked it back up again.

The most impressive part, however, was when the chorus came. As it neared, you could tell there were faint signs of singing coming from the student section. But when the chorus arrived, 10,000 undergrads and graduate students thrust their fists into the air and sang along:

Whooah, we're half way there
Wooah, Livin' on a prayer
Take my hand and we'll make it - I swear
Whooah, Livin' on a prayer

It felt just like being at a concert.

On Sunday I had David and Laura drop me off in the Loop so I could take the El out to O'Hare in an attempt to arrive home early by flying standby. After driving past the stadium formerly known as Soldier Field, I got out at the Randolph St. stop and climbed the steps up to the platform. In a moment of confusion, I called Casey for guidance on which line to take out to the airport, but she didn't hear her phone. I was a bit foggy because the three dogs and three cats at Julie's parents' house had messed with my allergies to the point where I was still feeling it two hours later in the city. I also may have been slightly sick from a day in the sun where the temperature went from the low 50s in the morning to mid 60s during the game. So I wasn't thinking and I went up the steps for the orange and purple lines and found a map, on which I discovered that I needed to change trains to the blue line at the Clark/Lake stop. I could've taken either line to get there, but I would've had to go all the way around the Loop when the Clark/Lake stop was just two away from where I stood at Randolph. So I went back down the stairs and crossed over to get the brown line ... which arrived as I was getting my CTA card. No matter, because I realized I was really thirsty and, lo and behold, next to the transit card dispenser was a beverage machine from which I got a Frutopia. Mmm ...

The green line train arrived moments later and I stepped on, at first looking at the map of the line on the train wrong and thinking that I was on an express or something that was about to pass my stop. But no, State/Lake is between Randolph and Clark/Lake, and I was OK.

We pull into the Clark/Lake stop and I step off the train near the end of the platform since I was on the second car. Still foggy, I make my way across the boards toward the doors that will take me downstairs to the blue line, which is underground. A few people criss-cross in front of me, heading either for the doors or for the train. I notice trash on the ground, in the middle of the platform, not near a wall or a pillar or trash can. I glance down and barely have time to realize what I'm looking at or what I'm doing. It's money. Several bills, a bit crumpled, obviously not from a wallet or money clip. I reach down, noticing zeros, and sweep them up as I continue walking.

But I pause for a second to look back behind me. A woman following about three steps behind saw it too and turns around with me. We see an empty platform and the doors of the departing green line train closing. No one seems to be looking back for any money they may have dropped. Ahead of us, the platform has cleared out.

"Looks like it's yours," the woman says as we start walking again toward the doors.

"I guess so," I say.

"How much was it?" she asks. I say I don't know, because I don't. I'm pretty sure I saw the double zeros of a $100 bill and I don't want to advertise how much cash I've just come across in the El.

"A lot," I reply. "Want 20 bucks?"

"Sure!" she says as I hand her one bill and put the rest in my pocket. She gets on the narrow escalator down in front of a man who stands rather than walks, and she's gone.

I get down to the blue line platform and notice someone sitting on a bench who looks a lot like Bill from Fade-In. The train comes and I squeeze into the crowded last car, packed with people and their luggage. After a couple of stops I manage to get a seat for the remainder of the trip. I'm seated on the aisle seat of one of those pairs of seats that sits perpendicularly to the two seats next to the door whose riders sit facing the aisle. The woman in the seat looks like Lauren Holly in Dumb and Dumber, only with black hair. Her bag and the bag of the woman seated next to me are taking up the space in front of black-haired Lauren Holly and the open seat next to her, blocking anyone from sitting there, so I glare at her most of the trip.

At the airport I discover I've got $140 in my pocket, I don't make any of the four earlier flights back to Newark, and I watch football for an hour standing outside the Fox Sports Sky Box restaurant.

Then I fly home in a window seat next to a Continental pilot and I watch Erie go by all lit up on the lakeshore.