Our next stop after Chicago was Minneapolis, Minnesota. After the six toll roads we suffered through just to get into Wisconsin, we expected to be wowed by the state. I mean, after all, it cost us $6 to get to this place; it better have something good to offer.
And it did.
Yes, folks, that’s a cheese, fireworks, and gifts superstore. And we thought the cheese and fireworks were the gifts! This was a promising introduction to Wisconsin and we felt confident that adventures would abound.
Ten minutes later, we were bored senseless. Weston came up with the brilliant idea of taking a picture of every person we passed on the highway.
Five minutes later, we were bored. Weston quit taking pictures of our fellow drivers, which was probably a good thing because some of them seemed quite alarmed by this stalker from Missouri.
We spent the rest of the journey to Minneapolis counting the number of indoor water parks we saw. Based primarily around a Branson-esque town called Wisconsin Dells (AKA Wis Dells for locals…and us), these water parks could quite possibly overtake cheese as the favorite pastime of the Wisconsians.
Finally, we arrived in the Twin Cities. Friday night in Minneapolis–time to party. We first had to locate my friend McKynlee, who was doing a summer internship in the city and with whom we were staying the night. Our Google Maps directions led us to a street right by the river. As we got closer to Mac’s address, we passed by a large red building called “The Danish American Center”.
“I bet she lives there,” I joked. Then, with horror, I realized that the address was the same as the one McKynlee had given me. She actually did live in the Danish American Center! This was too good to be true, simply too much fodder for our sarcastic natures.
We met up with McKynlee and were introduced to her friends from Yale: Ran, Katrina, Steve, John, Greg, and the infamous Josh. If I remember correctly, they were all Economics majors. ;)
Weston and I took part in the traditional kabob ceremony, where all of the interns grill kabobs on Friday nights. After a wonderful dinner and a few margaritas, it was decided that we should attend a beach party at a downtown dance club. At this point in the story, you may be wondering why on Earth Weston and I would ever agree to go to a dance club. After all, when have you heard mewithoutYou or Bright Eyes at a dance club? But nonetheless, our margaritas had kicked in at this point so it seemed logical. We chalked it up to celebrating McKynlee’s 21st birthday weekend and put on our swimming suits.
Now properly dressed in our beach attire, it was time to catch a bus to get to the light rail to get downtown.
Weston is scaring McKynlee again. Bad Weston.
At last the bus came and I stopped taking pictures…for a bit.
We boarded the light rail and headed downtown. A large woman across the aisle began hitting on the young man sitting in front of me and McKynlee. We thought it was especially hilarious when she came over and sat next to him. She asked for his phone number and if she could take a picture of him with her camera phone. After this young lady took his picture, she proceeded to Myspace it up. For those of you unfamiliar with this term, it means to take numerous photos of oneself, usually from odd angles. For one of her pictures, I looked over her shoulder with the most demonic look I could muster. She looked at the picture she had just taken and glared at me over her shoulder. McKynlee and I cracked up. However, the fun did not end there. After her newly-discovered boy toy got off at his stop, our girthful friend set her sights upon Weston. She started hitting on Weston, which further intensified our laughter. At one point in the conversation, she asked Weston if she looked drunk, but he misheard her and thought she was asking if he looked drunk. This left Weston thoroughly confused, but soon enough the drunk woman arrived at her destination and we were free again.
After we got off the light rail we headed for the beach club for some ‘bumping and grinding’! Needless to say, when we got there the club was “not happenin enough”. While we looked for another club to dance it up, we were stopped by a local artist who was trying to sell cds. McKynlee was naturally intrigued and struck up a conversation. She bought a cd and in return he instructed us on what clubs to check out (aka: 18 & UP). Boy did we find the party!!!
McKynlee decided we should go to the Karma Club. We agreed and paid the $20 cover for the both of us (WTF a cover??). Evidently we didnt get the memo that this was an Asian Dance Club. As the only white people in the club, we felt a little awkward. The awkwardness continued to increase as the MC announced a dance contest. Seven of the nine contestants were half-naked Asian girls, one was an Asian man who danced like an Asian girl, and one was apparently the only other white person in the club. He was tall, overweight, and wore a Jack Daniels t-shirt and an Indiana Jones hat. He lost the dance contest, needless to say. The night at the club was probably one of the most uncomfortable experiences of our lives, only mildly improved by the fact that McKynlee was humped on all sides by 3-4 Asians. Finally we escaped and went back to the Danish American Center to sleep.
Before we left the next day, McKynlee took us up to the fourth floor, which had been graciously donated by the Danish Americans to the Scottish Americans. Though the Scots only had one floor and the Danes had an entire building, the Scottish American Center was no trifling heritage common room. Oh no, the Scots should be proud. Here are some of the decorations from the third and our dressing up from the fourth floor.
Needless to say we had a good time dressing up, thank you so much Scotland!