Planes, trains, automobiles, Jaegerbombs, bees, flies... Part 2

Just so you know, the key to good story telling is to always leave them wanting more...

Wisconsin was a great time over all. After seeing a goodly portion of it from the window of a car in the middle of the night, and sleeping about 4 1/2 hours with a kitty on the top of my head, we awoke to a sunny Friday morning with plenty to do in preparation for the rest of the weekend's events. Dave went to work, and Marita and I donned serviceable clothing (and a hat for her, she doesn't like leaving the house without a shower if she can help it), and trooped off to one of the two Fond du Lac Starbucks. Shockingly enough, Marita had never actually BEEN to Starbucks (I'll give you all a minute to recover), so we agonized a little over what to get her, something not too coffee-tasting, not too sweet, not too big. Obviously I got a quad-shot venti of some kind or another. She did a good job convincing me she liked it well enough, but I think I can cross off "Starbucks gift card" on her Christmas list this year. One girl's mecca is another one's dentist visit, I guess. Aah diversity!

From there, we swung by Marita's supermarket of choice - the Pick and Save. It's hard to add an "s" to that, don't you think, Liz? The Pick and Saves? Doesn't ring. Nevertheless, there we went, and picked up some somewhat last minute necessities. As it turns out, in Wisconsin, one simply doesn't throw a party without a cheese tray (imagine) so we added one of those to the basket, marvelled over the different brands of the same things we have here in Oregon (or me anyway, for some reason I have a wierd fascination with regional brands), and rounded out the party menu with various dips and crudites. Back to Sammy Jo Circle (after a quick Bun Run - for the brats of course, duh), and we prepared the Jello shots, the ham and cream cheese roll ups, the Twix bars (oh my hell), Marita's famous salsa, and the rest of it. Whoever her friends are, they aren't going to be hungry.

We showered, packed a bag, and at around I don't know 3 maybe, hit the road (east, is it?) to Wisconsin Dells. The Dells is a sort of resort town, famous for its waterparks, souvenir stands and fudge, as well as its bars. I like fudge as much as the next guy, but honestly, you know why we went there. Dave stayed at home because the tent guy and the dj guy (Sparky and Ziggy. I still don't know anyone's real actual name) were coming by to set up and the beer of course had to be tested. We roll into The Dells around 4:30, starving, and grab some Mexican food at a place that was somewhat empty (but for us), but it was early on a Friday. The fact that the "dead" fly that Marita found on the table in front of her finally got up and flew away after she pushed it around a little, with her finger and her menu, should have given us an indication that as it turns out, late September in Wisconsin is Fly Season. The food was good and I stole a Dos Equis beer glass for her, and we got to work off some of the calories consumed by waving our arms and hands around at the zombie fly and his buddies.

After that, we checked into a cheap hotel, dropped off our crap, and hit some bars. This was post season The Dells, and I have no problem with that because I feel it is important to bond with your bartenders. Clearly so does Marita, because seriously EVERY BARTENDER THERE knows her. I'm so proud... We hit the Showboat (I bought a big huge glass mug), that one down the street and over where that one gal works (help me out here, Marita) where the one bartender overheard Marita say she couldn't remember his name, and Nigs. Can I even type that? Nigs is a biker bar that has been there for flipping ever. I bought a T shirt I will simply never be able to wear in public in the Pacific Northwest, but frankly it was the only way I could actually leave the bar having paid for something. We had like 4 shots and maybe 4 beers/drinks each and didn't pay for any of it. God I love places like that.

Back to the Showboat. I was getting pretty hammered, since I was starting to feel the effects of little sleep and post-Oh-My-Hell-the-plane-is-crashing exhaustion earlier at dinner and needed a little boost when we were at the Showboat the first time - so I found it at the bottom of a Jaeger-bomb. You know what those are - bucket of Red Bull and a shot of Jaeger dropped in it, chug down, repeat? I think I ended up finding it at the bottom of about 10 Jaeger-bombs, but who, besides Marita, was counting? I think we ended our evening at around 1:30 maybe, where I over heard Marita talking to Dave on the phone saying, I don't think I've ever SEEN her this drunk, and me yelling after that, It's called FRIDAY NIGHT. Obviously I didn't drink nearly enough while in Cancun.

The Dells kicked ass and we left the next day around 9, stopped for a pancake extravaganza at Mr. Pancake (I think that's what it's called, and have you noticed that a lot of pancake places have a pig in their logo? Hm.) and watched firefighters try to put out a fully flame-engulfed storage building down the street. We were on the road (maybe just a little bit fuzzy from the night before) and headed back toward Fond du Lac.

I'm exhausted with the typing right now, and I have a wedding tonight for which I haven't even bought the gift, I have a huge football game to watch, and frankly shit needs to get done. I didn't mean this to be a 3-parter but for God's sake somebody shut me up. Anyway, stay tuned, I should have this knocked out by tomorrow.