Day 3: The Quest for Cheese
Our hotel room in Milly-wah-kay was pitch black. There was only one window, hidden around a corner, and once the lights were out it was as dark as the Black Hole of Calcutta in there. This resulted in my awakening with the disconcerting sensation of not knowing where I was or even whether it was day or night. After a brief moment of befuddlement I established the salient facts: I was in a hotel; in Milly-wah-kay; it was ten in the morning; and time to get moving. Time for another day of comedy on the road.
The hotel lobby had a kiosk full of brochures and postcards advertising various tourist attractions, from which Bunny chose several that he wanted to visit. He really wanted to see the Spam Museum, which sadly is located not in Milly-wah-kay, but in Austin, Minnesota. It was only with much effort that I convinced Bunny that Austin was not 'just a little bit out of the way' but in fact located several hours and hundreds of miles to the west.
We decided to check out the Pabst Mansion, ...or so I thought. I began navigating as the Bunny piloted Adelaide through the streets of Milly-wah-kay. Then Bunny mentioned how much he was looking forward to more free beer. Free beer, I thought, what the fuck is he talking about? At a mansion? Did I miss something? I took a fresh look at the brochure for the Pabst Mansion...old house blah blah built by a really rich guy blah blah blah Gilded Age blah blah... nothing about beer.
"I don't think they serve beer here Bunny."
"What? No beer? What are you talking about?"
"No beer, that's what I'm talking about. Think about it - it's a restored house stuffed with antique furniture and shit. They're not going to give free beer to a couple of blockheads like us to spill all over their stuff."
"Mansion!? I don't want to go to a stupid mansion, I want to go to the Pabst Brewery."
"Well you gave me this brochure for the Pabst Mansion and said navigate there. So I did. But I think I saw the Brewery marked on the map."
I pulled the road atlas out from under the seat and flipped it open to the Milwaukee page. Sure enough, there on the city street map was a red square labeled Pabst Brewery. So we turned Adelaide about, heading back the way we came and steering for the Brewery.
Ten minutes of travel found us staring up at a large building, on a street than ran into a saw-horse barricade. According to the map we were looking at the Pabst Brewery, but something was not right. My spidey sense was tingling. There were no signs for Pabst, not on the street, not on the building. There were no people in sight. None. It was kind of spooky. Bunny backed up the car and we checked out another street nearby. Still no signs, still no people. Passing our original stopping point, we spotted a police car (actually a police SUV) and decided to ask for assistance.
"Excuse me," Bunny said, "do you know where we go for the brewery tour?"
The officer shot us a funny look.
"Brewery tour? There's no tour, the place is closed. Pabst left here years ago"
Oh. No wonder my spidey sense tingled; that's why there were no signs and no people. We'd basically been seeking entrance into an abandoned building, because the brewery was long gone. Heading into second-period action the score stood at Milly-wah-kay 1, Hello Kitty Mafia 0.
We now had one brochure left of the three Bunny had grabbed earlier. A lot was riding on the Wisconsin Cheese Mart, but once again The Baseball Jesus interceded on our behalf. The Cheese Mart was located on Old World Third Street, a plum destination for tourists in Milly-wah-kay. We parked Adelaide, found the Cheese Mart easily enough, and decided to scout about, as the surroundings looked promising. A short stroll down the sidewalk and we came across Buck Bradley's. After a brief huddle Bunny and I decided that any bar claiming to have 'the longest bar east of the Mississippi' was worthy of our attention; indeed it would be a sin not to investigate this claim. So we had a pint there, and then sat down at Mader's for more beer and lunch. Excellent food I might add, though my favorite thing in Mader's was probably the signed publicity still of John Candy bearing the exclamation 'Your portions are too small!'
Our time in Milly-wah-kay had come to a close. We drove back up to Miller Valley, to pillage the gift shop, and then turned Adelaide south towards Chicago.
The hotel lobby had a kiosk full of brochures and postcards advertising various tourist attractions, from which Bunny chose several that he wanted to visit. He really wanted to see the Spam Museum, which sadly is located not in Milly-wah-kay, but in Austin, Minnesota. It was only with much effort that I convinced Bunny that Austin was not 'just a little bit out of the way' but in fact located several hours and hundreds of miles to the west.
We decided to check out the Pabst Mansion, ...or so I thought. I began navigating as the Bunny piloted Adelaide through the streets of Milly-wah-kay. Then Bunny mentioned how much he was looking forward to more free beer. Free beer, I thought, what the fuck is he talking about? At a mansion? Did I miss something? I took a fresh look at the brochure for the Pabst Mansion...old house blah blah built by a really rich guy blah blah blah Gilded Age blah blah... nothing about beer.
"I don't think they serve beer here Bunny."
"What? No beer? What are you talking about?"
"No beer, that's what I'm talking about. Think about it - it's a restored house stuffed with antique furniture and shit. They're not going to give free beer to a couple of blockheads like us to spill all over their stuff."
"Mansion!? I don't want to go to a stupid mansion, I want to go to the Pabst Brewery."
"Well you gave me this brochure for the Pabst Mansion and said navigate there. So I did. But I think I saw the Brewery marked on the map."
I pulled the road atlas out from under the seat and flipped it open to the Milwaukee page. Sure enough, there on the city street map was a red square labeled Pabst Brewery. So we turned Adelaide about, heading back the way we came and steering for the Brewery.
Ten minutes of travel found us staring up at a large building, on a street than ran into a saw-horse barricade. According to the map we were looking at the Pabst Brewery, but something was not right. My spidey sense was tingling. There were no signs for Pabst, not on the street, not on the building. There were no people in sight. None. It was kind of spooky. Bunny backed up the car and we checked out another street nearby. Still no signs, still no people. Passing our original stopping point, we spotted a police car (actually a police SUV) and decided to ask for assistance.
"Excuse me," Bunny said, "do you know where we go for the brewery tour?"
The officer shot us a funny look.
"Brewery tour? There's no tour, the place is closed. Pabst left here years ago"
Oh. No wonder my spidey sense tingled; that's why there were no signs and no people. We'd basically been seeking entrance into an abandoned building, because the brewery was long gone. Heading into second-period action the score stood at Milly-wah-kay 1, Hello Kitty Mafia 0.
We now had one brochure left of the three Bunny had grabbed earlier. A lot was riding on the Wisconsin Cheese Mart, but once again The Baseball Jesus interceded on our behalf. The Cheese Mart was located on Old World Third Street, a plum destination for tourists in Milly-wah-kay. We parked Adelaide, found the Cheese Mart easily enough, and decided to scout about, as the surroundings looked promising. A short stroll down the sidewalk and we came across Buck Bradley's. After a brief huddle Bunny and I decided that any bar claiming to have 'the longest bar east of the Mississippi' was worthy of our attention; indeed it would be a sin not to investigate this claim. So we had a pint there, and then sat down at Mader's for more beer and lunch. Excellent food I might add, though my favorite thing in Mader's was probably the signed publicity still of John Candy bearing the exclamation 'Your portions are too small!'
Our time in Milly-wah-kay had come to a close. We drove back up to Miller Valley, to pillage the gift shop, and then turned Adelaide south towards Chicago.
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