My So-Called Blog

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So let me finish telling you about my vacation, since it’s the only thing worth blogging about in my bleak little existence…

We headed back home on Thursday, and I again drove through the Twin Cities. Not too terribly long after that we stopped for lunch and I let Mr. Right of Way drive. This makes me very nervous. He is a much better driver than me on technical merit, but that doesn’t mean safer, smarter, or more courteous. (I recently criticized him for making a U turn. “It’s not posted ‘No U-Turns’,” he replied. Five seconds later he realized he was Mr. Right the First Time and executed another risky U-Turn, right around a sign that had the big red circle with a slash over the U-Turn symbol. “Now THAT’S an illegal U-Turn,” he exclaimed proudly.)

So we continue on for a little and the next thing you know he’s exiting the interstate. Bathroom break, I figure. No. He’s driving us smack dab down the main drag of the Wisconsin Dells.

P.T. Barnum wishes he could have dreamed up the exploitation of a once-pristine area to this extent. Natural splendor? I think there was some here. Pre-1820. Before the first yahoo with a covered wagon said to himself, “Why, I bet some other idiots would love to see this, and I could charge them! We could cut down those trees for a better view of the river. Why camp? We can cut down all the trees and just put in some motels!”

There are four lanes in some spots, with miles of hotels, water parks, junky souvenir shops, petting zoos, amusement parks and people, people, PEOPLE. You know that commercial where the guy dressed up as an Indian sheds a tear over pollution? That’s exactly how this whole thing makes me feel. Not to mention how real Native Americans must feel! I bet they have a casino up there, I just didn’t notice it right then. That’s the red man’s revenge, you know. Taking the white man’s retirement money. Good for them.

So Al is looking for a tourist trap that sells some supposedly great beef jerky (spoiler: you know the animals that are too old or nippy for the petting zoo?) but can’t find it. He takes me to the Dells at the height of tourist season for beef jerky??? Oh, thanks, I think, rolling my eyes skyward just in time to catch a glimpse of a huge Trojan horse effigy marking the gateway to a roller coaster park.

As we creep along in bumper to bumper traffic, we approach the Tommy Bartlett Water Show complex. I think this guy started off with a pair of water-skis and an out board motor, and now it’s this billion-dollar conglomeration. I suspect it’s the only place for a water skier to ‘go pro’. I’m not impressed.

“Wanna ride the Ducks?” he asks. Is it a heart-stopping dangerous thrill ride? “Um, no. Not at all,” he replies. Good, I could use a break from your driving.