Hay you guys, I totally went to Minnesota. It was my first time. I was scurred at first, but then I realized that people in Minnesota are just like us, but scandinavianer. And vikings are pretty sweet, what with the pillaging and all, so I thought I might have a good time.
Besides, I needed to break a few winders to settle the score.
I was all ready to Go Greyhound, but when I found out some friends of mine, this gay chipmunk couple Roger and Drew, were driving, I leapt at the opportunity to save thirty bucks. Unfortunately, Drew was driving a Mini Cooper. But I squeezed in the back. Drew sits on a couple of phone books to see over the dash, Ben the skunk sat up front with the window cracked and Roger occupied the cup holder.
We stopped for a fish fry at the historic Randy’s in ever-so-lovely Eau Claire, which is French for “just off I-94.” We were the youngest ones there. We could have been 60 years old and still the youngest ones there. But there was free tapioca so it weren’t so bad.
Hay you know what, I love fish frys. What I do not like are non-all-you-can-eat fish frys. This is America! I will tell you when I have had my fill. If I can conceal a handgun, you better be damn sure I can conceal some more cod.
Back on the road, it was only a matter of traversing a sea of poppies before we reached the Emerald City. And sleep I did.
I awoke in the parking lot of the Motel 6. Now this was not the first time this had happened, but it was the first time that it wasn’t underneath a car.
If you have never stayed in a Motel 6, that is awesome.
Minutes after settling into our room, we were out to knock off a liquor store. But we got bad directions. Three hours, 150 miles and 9,999 lakes later, we found downtown Minneapolis. Never have I seen so many parking garages. I did not see Prince. I did not see Mary Tyler Moore. I did see my breath. Drew didn’t see that tree. I hope his dad does not see his car insurance go up.
They got this place up there called Drinkytown or something, and it would be pretty cool if only it did not suck so much. They wouldn’t let Roger or Drew into this one bar because they had a strict, no-gay-chipmunk policy, so we went to Denny’s instead, where they are known for their acceptance of diversity.
Later we went to Ben the Skunk’s hippie friends’ house. I was apprehensive about going into a longhair den, but their offers of boxed wine made for a quick truce. I should not have been so obliging, because my tail still smells like patchouli. Herbal Essence hath no power over the hippie majicks.
Saturday morning we got up at way-too-early o’clock and headed for the H3 Dome. There was shit to see everywhere. Like more parking garages. Okay, I’m exaggerating. There were also parking lots.
This ticket scalper came up to me and was like “hay man buy this ticket for $100,” and I was like, “how about ten bucks and I bite your leg?” and he was all “I’ll just take the ten-spot,” and I was all “I THROW IN THE BITE 4 FREE, MANG!!!” Chomp. Let me at that Middle East crisis. I am a subtle negotiator of subtlety.
So there was a football game, and our team lost đ and that was too bad. But I got the satisfaction of buying beer for $5.50 a bottle.
Soon it was time to return back to Wiscompton?, and we did. Drew stopped the Mini on the side of the road for a while so we could see the eclipse. That was awesome, but it really made me want to see Moonraker. Roger wouldn’t get out of the glove compartment. Ben tried to take some pictures, but he stunk them up. Because, you see, he is a skunk. Hence the pun.
So will I go back? Probably not. They don’t have anything there that we don’t here in Madison. Well, except for maybe parking.
Oh man! I totally forgot to tell you guys about th
