I feel I owe all lifelong Chicagoans a huge apology. I only hope you will believe me when I say that this isn’t the way I wanted things to work out. Had I known that my suburban past would come back to haunt you, I would have never come here to your city. But there’s nothing I can do now: Red Lobster has tracked me down.

Yes, America’s favorite seafood chain has set up shop in River North. They snuck into town on St. Patrick’s Day, knowing we’d all be so wasted that either we’d think we were hallucinating or we’d be vomiting all over ourselves and happily welcome them just to get our hands on one of their bibs.

But now the sober reality has sunk in: There is actually a Red Lobster at the corner of Grand and Dearborn. And to make matters worse, I hear the chain is already pushing the city’s aldermen to designate that section of Dearborn with the honorary street name “Rte. 59.”

I guess we shouldn’t be that surprised that Red Lobster jumped out of its suburban tank and headed for the big city. The writing had been on the wall for some time. It said: “Red Lobster coming soon. For employment opportunities, call 773-555-9217.”

The truth is, though, Red Lobster is really just the latest in a series of suburban institutions — from Red Roof Inn to Bed Bath & Beyond — to invade Chicago. But don’t worry, the suburbs are keeping the good public schools to themselves!

For those of you who’ve lived in the city all your life, seeing all of these places must be like living out the cautionary tales you’d hear growing up about kids who crossed the border into Lincolnwood and were never heard from again.

And I, a guy who grew up in a land littered with Applebees, Ruby Tuesdays and Olive Gardens, can’t help but feel responsible. These chains are hoping I’ll come running back into their familiar arms — no matter how many times I scream, “I no longer think the Awesome Blossom is awesome!”

To be fair, cities have unleashed their fair share of evils onto the people in the suburbs, like the Egyptian mummy exhibits kids must visit every year on field trips. And then of course there are the hard drugs. Now, before you accuse me of wrongly pinning the blame of suburban drug abuse on cities, let me state that, of course, I don’t think crack cocaine is as bad as Red Lobster.

Actually, it’s only a matter of time before suburban megastores move into the city and take over the drug trade from the mom-and-pop drug dealers. I guarantee that in five years, there will be a Wal-Mart in downtown Chicago — and that they’ll undersell everyone on heroin. I can already see the start of the ad campaign: “Since you already buy your spoons from us … .”

But I’m getting off subject; the issue at hand right now is Red Lobster, and the mess I’ve gotten the natives of this great restaurant town into. I mean, have you tried Red Lobster’s broiled flounder? It’s terrible (though I should probably say that I don’t like broiled flounder).

But I’m ready to fight against this scourge. The way I see it, we have two options. We can protest outside Red Lobster until it closes (I’ve already drawn up signs that say: “They Catch Their Fish at Shedd”), or we can just go inside and drown our sorrows in a pitcher of their margaritas — which, in case you’re wondering, are technically called Lobsteritas®.

(Mark Bazer can be reached at mebazer@yahoo.com.)

(C) 2003 MARK BAZER, DISTRIBUTED BY TRIBUNE MEDIA SERVICES