I reached across the center console and squeezed my wife's hand. For the umpteenth time that day I leaned over and said, "You know, I've been looking forward to this all month." I was in high spirits, and why not? It was a beautiful sunny October day and we were on the road, fulfilling a two-year promise.
For our wedding, we had received a coupon to a resort in Door County, Wisconsin. Our plan had been to book the holiday in the midst of the fall colors. For the past two years, neither of our schedules had allowed for time off in October. Then one day this August, Ashley remarked, "You know, we really ought to use that gift. I have a four-day weekend in October ..."
I didn't even look up from whatever I was doing, "Book the reservation - I don't care if we're in the middle of the harvest season. Let's do it." I just love it when decisions are easy to make.
At Manitowoc, we took Wisconsin 42 north, along the lakefront. Small towns with Wisconsin-esque names like Kewaunee and Algoma dotted our route. Inviting, lovingly manicured footpaths meandered along the shore of Lake Michigan, while restaurants and coffee shops offered a view. I would've been happy to stop anywhere.
At Sturgeon Bay, we reached our destination, and I instantly fell in love with Door County. Everything from fine dining to wine tasting to local art galleries was within easy walking distance. There was a comfortable local feel typically lost in the garishness of tourist traps. And, the smell - waterfront cities always carry a unique aroma, thanks to the blending of restaurants, concrete, and a breath of fresh air from over the water. It is delightful, and Sturgeon Bay had it.
We had been gifted an exquisite suite overlooking the bay. I presented a bottle of champagne and, to Ashley's horror, aimed it at the flat screen TV in the room. Something told me not to, so at the last minute I modified the cork's trajectory. Good thing - the bottle erupted with such ferocity that the cork left a noticeable divot in the ceiling. I shrieked with delight and bought a second bottle - no conceal-carry permit required.
Since my wife and I were on vacation we did something we absolutely, positively, never do. We sat down and watched TV. I was quickly reminded why I do not subscribe to cable or dish. Having 500 channels to watch is no big deal. Finding one channel that is actually good is nothing short of Biblical. For example:
I stumbled across the Kim Kardashian wedding on the Entertainment Network. I have long hypothesized a theory that relates to U.S. foreign policy. My entire adult life, I have suffered pundits, politicians, and spokespeople wringing their hands over one universal question, "Why does the rest of the world hate us?"
Let me answer the question once and for all by asking another: Take any foreign world leader. What do you think infuriates them more: a speech from any U.S. President about American Exceptionalism, or 10 minutes of 'Jersey Shore'?
The Kim Kardashian wedding only proved my point. Growing stupider by the nanosecond I flipped channels. Then, I prophetically had a thought. Move over Nostradamus; let the record show that on Saturday, Oct. 29, 2011, Dan Wegmueller turned to his wife after watching the Kardashian wedding on E. and said, "So is it too soon to bet that she'll be divorced by the end of the year?"
Having had our fill of idiocracy for a lifetime, Ashley and I headed out for supper. Hand in hand, we walked the town, eventually coming upon an inviting Irish pub. Only in Wisconsin will one find an Irish pub that offers $2 shots of Jameson with certain appetizers, and I am not being critical - I love Wisconsin, and now for one more reason.
Halfway through supper, Ashley excused herself. If ever there is a fascinating window to American culture, the Saturday night restaurant and bar scene is it. During her absence, I quietly took it all in, not unlike a fly on a wall.
Two bartenders: one male, one female, both good-looking and amicable. Predictably, they've each attracted, and are catering to, a stream of clientele. Over there, a young couple with a baby is heading home, as is a family - time for the switch to night crowd. A middle-aged man is seated at the bar, trying to hide his sorrows. The female bartender is doing her job, and she'll be rewarded when he pays his bill. A group of guys come in, gesticulating loudly, their numbers making up for their individual insecurities. Two girls are perched on corner stools. They are clearly on a mission this evening. One of them is either desperate or has no tact - she keeps looking my way.
Ashley returns. She's noticed the obvious glances from my new fan club. "Is that girl over there checking you out?"
I reply, "No, she's sitting there staring at me. It's actually really uncomfortable."
My wife sits down, sips her drink, looks me dead in the eye and remarks, "She looks like she's 12. Should I invite her over here to have a grown-up conversation?"
I laughed - in a way that no one else can make me laugh. I couldn't imagine being seated across the table on a Saturday night sharing a conversation with anyone else, but Ashley.
Maybe it was her, perhaps it was Door County, but most likely a combination of both. Whatever it was, I had an awesome weekend in Sturgeon Bay.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
For our wedding, we had received a coupon to a resort in Door County, Wisconsin. Our plan had been to book the holiday in the midst of the fall colors. For the past two years, neither of our schedules had allowed for time off in October. Then one day this August, Ashley remarked, "You know, we really ought to use that gift. I have a four-day weekend in October ..."
I didn't even look up from whatever I was doing, "Book the reservation - I don't care if we're in the middle of the harvest season. Let's do it." I just love it when decisions are easy to make.
At Manitowoc, we took Wisconsin 42 north, along the lakefront. Small towns with Wisconsin-esque names like Kewaunee and Algoma dotted our route. Inviting, lovingly manicured footpaths meandered along the shore of Lake Michigan, while restaurants and coffee shops offered a view. I would've been happy to stop anywhere.
At Sturgeon Bay, we reached our destination, and I instantly fell in love with Door County. Everything from fine dining to wine tasting to local art galleries was within easy walking distance. There was a comfortable local feel typically lost in the garishness of tourist traps. And, the smell - waterfront cities always carry a unique aroma, thanks to the blending of restaurants, concrete, and a breath of fresh air from over the water. It is delightful, and Sturgeon Bay had it.
We had been gifted an exquisite suite overlooking the bay. I presented a bottle of champagne and, to Ashley's horror, aimed it at the flat screen TV in the room. Something told me not to, so at the last minute I modified the cork's trajectory. Good thing - the bottle erupted with such ferocity that the cork left a noticeable divot in the ceiling. I shrieked with delight and bought a second bottle - no conceal-carry permit required.
Since my wife and I were on vacation we did something we absolutely, positively, never do. We sat down and watched TV. I was quickly reminded why I do not subscribe to cable or dish. Having 500 channels to watch is no big deal. Finding one channel that is actually good is nothing short of Biblical. For example:
I stumbled across the Kim Kardashian wedding on the Entertainment Network. I have long hypothesized a theory that relates to U.S. foreign policy. My entire adult life, I have suffered pundits, politicians, and spokespeople wringing their hands over one universal question, "Why does the rest of the world hate us?"
Let me answer the question once and for all by asking another: Take any foreign world leader. What do you think infuriates them more: a speech from any U.S. President about American Exceptionalism, or 10 minutes of 'Jersey Shore'?
The Kim Kardashian wedding only proved my point. Growing stupider by the nanosecond I flipped channels. Then, I prophetically had a thought. Move over Nostradamus; let the record show that on Saturday, Oct. 29, 2011, Dan Wegmueller turned to his wife after watching the Kardashian wedding on E. and said, "So is it too soon to bet that she'll be divorced by the end of the year?"
Having had our fill of idiocracy for a lifetime, Ashley and I headed out for supper. Hand in hand, we walked the town, eventually coming upon an inviting Irish pub. Only in Wisconsin will one find an Irish pub that offers $2 shots of Jameson with certain appetizers, and I am not being critical - I love Wisconsin, and now for one more reason.
Halfway through supper, Ashley excused herself. If ever there is a fascinating window to American culture, the Saturday night restaurant and bar scene is it. During her absence, I quietly took it all in, not unlike a fly on a wall.
Two bartenders: one male, one female, both good-looking and amicable. Predictably, they've each attracted, and are catering to, a stream of clientele. Over there, a young couple with a baby is heading home, as is a family - time for the switch to night crowd. A middle-aged man is seated at the bar, trying to hide his sorrows. The female bartender is doing her job, and she'll be rewarded when he pays his bill. A group of guys come in, gesticulating loudly, their numbers making up for their individual insecurities. Two girls are perched on corner stools. They are clearly on a mission this evening. One of them is either desperate or has no tact - she keeps looking my way.
Ashley returns. She's noticed the obvious glances from my new fan club. "Is that girl over there checking you out?"
I reply, "No, she's sitting there staring at me. It's actually really uncomfortable."
My wife sits down, sips her drink, looks me dead in the eye and remarks, "She looks like she's 12. Should I invite her over here to have a grown-up conversation?"
I laughed - in a way that no one else can make me laugh. I couldn't imagine being seated across the table on a Saturday night sharing a conversation with anyone else, but Ashley.
Maybe it was her, perhaps it was Door County, but most likely a combination of both. Whatever it was, I had an awesome weekend in Sturgeon Bay.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
