On my day off Karin and I decided to go to Disneyland. Man, was I excited. We had a nice breakfast at the Carnation Cafe, took in our usual favorites rides, relaxed in the central park area with our traditional frozen deserts, and wandered through the shops.
Can you spot me on the Space Mountain ride?:
Thumbs up, buddy!
Quick! Can you name all of the otters shown on the of Otter Pops box?
Aww….you cheated, didn’t you?
While you’re busy memorizing them, I’ll be busy taking the next four days off of work to go on a few extended trail runs and hopefully squeezing in a few rounds of Arkham Horror. Now, I know that Lovecraft was a racist of the highest order (“The Rats In The Walls” and “The Horror At Red Hook” anyone?), but putting that aside he wrote some amazingly frightening stories of people placed in situations where humans were never meant to be, exposed to knowledge they were never meant to know.
See y’all Wednesday morning!
Whelp, tonight wraps up our grand tour of Wisconsin. The wife has successfully caught up with friends and family, and as we head back to sunny San Diego we’re left with the feeling that we’ll be missing all of the kind, honest people we’ve seen this past week. The suitcases are packed up, the alarm is set for 4am, and the plane tickets are at the ready.
And so, with a fond “farewell”, we bid adieu to Widmer’s Cheese factory (awesome cheese!),
Dr. Myerson’s teeth,
the John Deere factory,
the never ending fields of corn and soy beans,
Amish literature,
and last, but not least, this orange moose:
That, in a nutshell my friends, is Wisconsin.
Today we traversed the wilds of Wisconsin, barreling through the invisible border into Minnesota at 85 per, eventually skidding to a stop in the parking lot of the jewel of the midwest…the Mall Of America.
Anxious to see what this side of the country considers their Disneyland, their Taj Majal, their very Mecca itself, we braced ourselves for close contact with NASCAR aficionados, recent Favre converts, and rugged ranch hand farmers. Oddly enough, contrary to our misguided preconceived big-city notions, we had a great time.
I’ve heard a lot about the Mall Of America, and wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to travel a scant five hours via car to take bask in its capitalistic glory.
Upon first entering this uniquely American mosque, we found ourselves swimming in a sea of rabid scrap bookers queued up by the hundreds, each hoping to secure a spot in a seminar being hosted by the Home Shopping Channel. While the women were standing in various lines waiting to take part in either scrap booking classes or partake in scrap booking business transactions, the husbands were busy doing this:
Poor guys. I sympathize. Soldier on, brothers…
But, after making our way past this madness, rounding a few corners, and valiantly avoiding the Orange Julius stand (mmmm….Orange Julius!), we were greeted with the main attraction of this particular mall (click to embiggen):
The central amusement park! Like a overactive child fresh off his meds and flying high on a can of Coke and two bowls of Lucky Charms, I broke free and headed straight for the ride that had the most screaming:
The Rock Bottom Plunge offers a 90º free-fall drop, speeding into a tight loop, over various twists and turns, and straight into my palpitating heart. This, the Avatar Airbender ride, and the Fairly Odd Coaster were the big “E” ticket rides, and the wait for each was mere minutes.
The Flying Dutchman, guarding his towering wall climbing attraction.
After taking in the rides, if you’re feeling the romantic urge to get married, there’s a chapel on the grounds that provides just such a service:
And so, with the power of 20/20 hindsight, if I had to give the Mall Of America a rating of 1-10, I’d have to give it a solid ‘B’. I feel sorry for the families who make this hive of activity their vacation destination. But for the curious and the bored, the Mall Of America offers enough distractions to fill an afternoon.
After ten hours of travel, we’ve finally arrived in Wisconsin. On the car ride through the quiet country tree-lined roads, slowly working our way to our hotel, I was halfway expecting the Mothman to jump out of the darkened forest and into the path of our car, eyes glowing red in the headlights, mouth agape, hissing and spitting through ragged teeth and over forked tongue, telepathically warning us to turn back, to go back home before it’s too late.
Country roads are something that I’m just not used to.
I picked up Dan Brown’s newest novel The Lost Symbol before we departed from the San Diego airport, and have very nearly finished it. If you haven’t already dug into this book, I’d highly suggest that you pick it up. It’s some serious literary candy, guaranteed to give your brain cavities. I’m already looking forward to the eventual movie.
