At the end of July each year I head down to the greater Cincinnati area to play a 30-plus year old Nintendo video game (Tecmo Super Bowl) with a bunch of other 30- and 40-something guys from across the country. It is very fun, and I’ve written about my trips there four the past six years.

This year I went down a day early, because that ended up saving me $170 on my hotel stay. Weird flex, but OK, Woodspring Suites.

This also gave me an extra day to explore the area a bit. A few years ago my wife and I went to downtown Cincinnati, walked the streets and played the full role of tourists. 

This time around I was by myself — my wife stayed back with the dog and our kids. After fighting ridiculous midday traffic in Chicago and Indianapolis, I arrived to the northern Cincy suburbs about two hours later than normal. I promptly fell asleep while watching Day 1 of the Olympics and napped for three hours before waking up and watching more Olympic action — namely women’s soccer, men’s rugby and women’s handball.

Friday morning I ate breakfast at Waffle House, which was just as delicious as I remembered. I went perusing through the aisles at Jungle Jim’s for over an hour, hit some baseballs in a batting cage and mini-golfed at the Fairfield Family Fun Center, and ate a late lunch at a chain sit-down restaurant that aims to attract adult male sports fans. That evening I ate dinner and played darts with my friend Jimmy Vogt and his young family. The four Vogt brothers have run the Midwest Tecmo tournament for 17 years — it is the longest running tournament of its type in the world. We ended the night at The Avenue’s Bar in Hamilton, Ohio, just blocks from his house and in the neighborhood he and his brothers grew up in.

While at the bar in conversation with a group of Ohioans, we were discussing our hometowns. I made mention of how my hometown, Monroe, has been revitalizing a lot of its older buildings, and, in general, we here in southern Wisconsin like to celebrate our local history. I brought up Darlington’s recent 175th celebration that was happening the same weekend and our area’s long history with agriculture, beer and cheese.

Matt Vogt, Jimmy’s brother, asked me if I had taken the chance to check out downtown Hamilton, Ohio yet. I hadn’t. He suggested it, as they themselves have been revitalizing the area for the past decade or two.

In the moment I thought to myself, “Yeah, Matt. Probably not. Tomorrow I am going to wake up hungover and then shuttle over to the bar for the tournament. I’ll get back to the hotel late again, and then drive home seven hours on Sunday. I’m not going to be exploring Hamilton right now.”

But thoughts and actions are different beasts, and ghosts of Hamilton’s past made sure to get me up early to explore Saturday morning.

You see, after less than five hours of sleep, I was awakened just before 7 a.m. when the hotel’s fire alarm system was going off. The same thing happened a couple of times the day before, but only for a minute or less. This time, it kept going.

At first I threw my blanket over my head to try and turn the volume down from the pulsating, high-pitched screech. That didn’t work very well. 

I laid in bed and thought about some of the other times the alarm had gone off in my hotel while I slept: In the mid-90s on a winter family vacation in Colorado, we were shuffled out of our hotel because someone stumbled into the alarm on the way out of the hotel bar. Years later when I was in Italy, the alarm went off in our hotel in Rome because a couple of guys from a nearby room tried to dim the lights in the room by putting a towel over the light fixture. Needless to say, that didn’t work and there was some slight smoke damage to that particular room.

This time around in 2024, I was alone in my room. I got up out of bed after 10 minutes and peeked through my door’s peephole and saw no smoke in the hallways — or anyone spilling out for a quick exit. Surely this must be a false alarm, I thought, and then proceeded use the restroom. Moments later, a fire truck showed up. “Well, protocol, I suppose,” is what I thought. 

I slowly started getting changed anyway, because I didn’t want to chance falling back asleep for more than two hours and being late for the start of the tournament. 

Then a second fire truck arrived, and I side-eyed it like any one of the number of memes that motion to say “Uh, maybe?”

Then I looked to my left and the first firetruck had its ladder extended to the top of the roof. No thank you, I declared. I re-checked the hall through the peephole, and tapped the door handle a couple of times to make sure it wasn’t hot. Then I gathered nearly everything else I brought but a pillow, my CPAP, and some beer in the fridge, and I hi-tailed it out of there. I was just hoping the hotel was still standing when I came back — I really didn’t want to waste that beer I had just bought.

So now I was in my car and wondering what to do, when I remembered Matt mentioned I needed to check out downtown Hamilton, which was only about 10-15 minutes away. 

In hindsight, I am very glad I took his advice. Temps were in the mid-60s, with a very light breeze and just a handful of clouds in the sky. I parked near the river and went on a walk. While the walk itself was nice, I actually became invested early on. I started seeing dedication plaques, statues and historical markers. Without intending to, I was gathering a slew of information on the early pioneer days of the Ohio River Valley (Hamilton sits on the Great Miami River, which flows into the Ohio River downstream just west of Cincinnati proper). 

Fort Hamilton was founded in 1791, and the first bridge to cross the river was built in 1816. The current bridge — the fifth built in the same location — had construction completed in 2007. Hamilton wraps around the river on both sides. The city has marked off its downtown areas into seven distinct districts, while the rest of the area is general commercial or residential properties. These five areas are the Champion Canyon to the direct northwest of the river, Main Street directly west of the river, the Central Business District directly to the east (which is where many of the municipal buildings reside), the MAC in the southeast, East High Gateway in the far east, North End, on the north and east end, and the German Village district directly north of the Central Business District and on the eastern side of the river.

My short walk crossed the bridge twice, went along the riverfront and hit the German Village, Central Business District and Main Street sector. In all, it equated to about three miles of walking, which is more than I usually get in before 5 p.m. most days. In the Germany Village, I had actually parked next to Marcum Park, where there are weekly free community concerts. The tobacco-free park is also decorated with a beautiful heart-shaped water fountain and several statues.

The thing that I took away from it all wasn’t just the interesting history the city had — after all, it is 50-75 years older than those around here. What I took away was just how prideful its current residents — actually, those over the past two centuries — have been about preserving their history. They held it near and dear to their heart. The parks were in great order, the streets were being re-paved, the historical markers cleaned and well laid out, and the statues and plaques ranged in age from the 19th century to literally just this year. These Ohioans are seemingly not that much different that my neighbors here in Wisconsin. I certainly appreciate and respect their efforts. It also made me feel even better about some of the things we are doing locally here in southern Wisconsin.

In general, it was just a cool, interpersonal bonding moment I felt with this 60,000-population suburb some seven hours from home.

For those wondering how well I played in the retro video game tournament — I stunk up the place. But I had a great time seeing many of my friends again, and I can’t wait to go back again next year.

— Adam Krebs is the editor of the Times and can be reached at editor@themonroetimes.com.