"Wan, Wisconsin! Wan, Wisconsin!"

Think you got enough room on either side of you two?

I'm not going to mince words.  I hate Wisconsin.  The more I'm exposed to the place, the less I like it, in spite of the fact my Wife grew up there.  My disdain, long cultivated before Scott Walker and Paul Ryan gained national prominence, was reaffirmed during a recent trip to the Dells for a volleyball tournament.

First, let me explain why I dislike Wisconsin so much; it's the state's drivers. I'll freely admit I'm a curmudgeon, and nothing sets me off more than the buffoonery I suffer when I'm driving; and odds are there's a Wisconsin plate on the vehicle causing my consternation.  You can't win with them!  They drive too slowly when in front of you, follow too closely when behind you, and they can attack without warning (i.e. signalling).

I have countless stories of run-ins with Wisconsin drivers. Like the driver who almost made a left turn onto a one way street from Hennepin Avenue, then proceeded to drive one more block on the wrong side of the double yellow line. I assume he thought every street in the area was a one way.  Or the woman in the Audi on I-94 heading into St. Paul, who either didn't see or ignored my signal to change lanes so she could use the travel lane to whip around someone in the passing lane. Or the cheesehead who arrived at a four way stop after I did, but made a right turn in front of me as I went straight.

I have a theory on the lack of quality drivers in America's Dairyland.  The small southeast region, from Madison east to Milwaukee and south to Kenosha, has a heavy influence from Chicago drivers.  Chicagoans, like Bostonians, are aggressive drivers, darting quickly from lane to lane in order to make progress.  This is a necessity to get around a large, tightly packed metropolis.  They're aggressive, but not stupid.  Import this behavior north of the state line and you get people who think this is the only way to drive without understanding the reasons why.

Everywhere else you'll find people who are at best two generations removed from the farm.  If they aren't driving cars, they're driving tractors.  In fact, the top speed limit in any small town off the highway is the same as your typical school zone. Seriously, if you have to get from one point in Wisconsin to another using a road not labelled 90 or 94, you might as well pack a lunch.  These areas are where the fatty deposits develop that clog the arteries of our interstate system.


Needless to say, my eagerness to see G-Bug play volleyball was tempered by the need to trek to Wisconsin Dells.  Once there, we were beset with a series of misadventures. There were two sites where the tournament was being held. The first was easy enough to find, just a mile up the road from the hotel.  We passed a number of amusement park rides that looked rickety and possibly condemned to get to the Just A Game arena.  There were six tightly packed courts with very limited seating.  The team did very well on Day 1, winning two of three matches, but G-Bug didn't get any court time even as one player was laid up due to illness (one down).

The parents made arrangements for all of us, players and parents, to meet for dinner.  The place was at a country club that I thought was near the hotel as I saw signs for it as I pulled into the hotel parking lot the night before.  Just to be safe, I plugged the address into my phones GPS and waited for the end of the day's matches.  The GPS sent the Wife and I on a wild goose chase around the various resorts in Wisconsin Dells.  After a third U-turn, I decided to "forget this!" and headed back to the hotel.  G-Bug's mom called as we were pulling into the hotel parking lot and asked if we were joining them.  I replied with a terse "nope." I would later learn, in the light of day, the country club was across the street from the hotel.

We decided dinner that night would be a pizza and a couple beers at one of the indoor poolside bars.  We arrived just as the barmaid was struggling to get the debit card machine to work.  Her lack of customer service allowed us enough time to peruse the facility, including when the swinging door to the "kitchen" gave us an unobstructed view of the "cook" stuffing shredded cheese into his mouth, with his gloveless hand. Undaunted, we ordered a pizza, figuring the heat would kill any bacteria.  

We finished one drink as our pizza was cooking and were needing another.  But first, other patrons needed to learn the debit card machine wasn't working and had to charge their drinks to their rooms; only after having a long back and forth about what beers were on tap, in bottles, in cans, what food was on the menu, and a litany of other question that could have been answered by anyone with sight.  Mercifully, the pizza was done and we took it and a bottle of beer each back to our room.

The next day we learned a second player succumbed to illness (two down). Match play would begin at two o'clock, so the Wife and I journeyed afar to find an Aldi's to get groceries for meals during the rest of our trip.  Apparently, there is no feeling of reciprocity between Minnesota and Wisconsin when it comes to debit card use at Aldi's. The cashier warned my Wife's card might not go through because we were Minnesotans in Wisconsin, or as I like to call pilgrims in an unholy land.  We were fortunate the card was accepted.

We were able to return to the hotel safely in spite of the start of an intense snowstorm and in plenty of time to get ready before heading to the Dome.  We weren't given an address to the Wisconsin Dells Center, just the name.  I typed in the name in my phone's GPS and was shown the quickest route - the quickest route to the rotary where the GPS decided to give up and left me on my own.  I was one more U-turn away from saying "forget this!" the second time in as many days before deciding to follow a group of cars I figured was heading to the Dome.  My instincts proved correct.  The team didn't do as well Day 2, winning one of the three matches.  Again, G-Bug didn't compete. Seeing as Day 2 was on March 1, and was G-Bug's mom's birthday, we decided to have dinner together at Famous Dave's BBQ, which was just down the road from this place:

Can you say "racial tension," kids?

Sunday was the last day of the tournament, which was good because another player, and G-Bug's roommate, suffered from illness (three down).  The team was running out of players.  G-Bug was able to get some court time on Day 3, which was single elimination. Once the team lost, it was able to go home.  The team won it's first match, but lost the next. We were on the road home by noon.  

The trip was relatively uneventful.  We stayed on 90/94 the whole way, stopping once to get something to eat at Hardee's. I like Hardee's, but we only have one of the restaurants in the Twin Cities loop, so it's a common stop when we travel into Wisconsin; but it ain't cheap.  The two of us ordered standard meals from the menu to the tune of nearly $20. When we got to the window, the cashier handed us our medium sodas, which would be larges in movie theaters, and a grocery bag full of food.  I could have used it to recycle newspapers if it wasn't for the grease stains and if we actually read newspapers.

We were glad to cross the border with full bellies and a clear day.  I will say this though, Wisconsin is much better at clearing its highways of snow than Minnesota.  I'm told the state uses cheese brine to salt its roads.  They must use Minnesota drivers for its DoT trucks.