Getting here, was, as usual, half the fun ... a 3.5 hour drive from Minneapolis turned into about 6 hours, during which we were forced to pull over on I-94 due to a blinding rainstorm (and a near panic over my driving from a certain passenger...who insists that I was far closer to hitting that motorcycle than I possibly could have been...really! No...really!). We started driving again, and discovered we were still rain-blind, but were able to see well enough to inch the car to an off ramp and, as if called by a divine power, into the parking lot of a Burger King with a Play Place. Two cookies, one milkshake, a pair of Spider-Man goggles and a mini Optimus Prime Transformer, three bathroom breaks and one-and-a-half hours later we were back on the road.
If you've never been to the Dells, think Branson, MO, without the southern-fried tacky. More midwestern tacky...or... oh hell...it's hard to be cynical and aloof when you and your wife have three kids, five-and-under, in tow... When you have three kids, what's tacky about Pirate's Cove Mini-Golf? Or the Ripley's Believe it Not Museum? Or the Tommy Bartlett Water Show? Or the castle-themed Camelot Hotel, chosen to replace the campsite that was no doubt washed away in today's storms, which uses a castle shaped facade -- admittedly successful at delighting the kids -- to hide a perfectly lousy hotel where the wife and kids are trying to sleep while I -- assuming the traditional male role of hunter-gatherer -- head to the Wal-Mart for morning vittles -- a cereal variety pack, milk, bread and a squeeze bottle of jelly.
So, my loyal reader or two...wish me luck... in mending my jaded spirit...in fogetting the cares of the office...in relaxing enough to have a little fun...in getting a little sleep...and in stalking and capturing a delicious squeezable bottle of jelly before Wal-Mart shuts down for the night. It'll be a close one.
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