In the Rapids

I arrived in Wisconsin Rapids on Tuesday around 7:45AM along with my cohort, Dan. The DNR office didn't open until 8:15 and no one would let the poor computer guys standing outside in the cold inside to enjoy the warmth. The drive up had been uneventful. We left Madison in the antelucan hours and in snow. The flurries lasted until we got a little north of Endeavor. Further down the road, we passed The Pioneer and I was reminded that it's now trivia season. The Zupans, my trivia team, often stop at The Pioneer to break our fasts on the way north to trivia contests and I can say that the biscuits & gravy there is mighty fine. Since we had time to blow, we went to our hotel to see if we could check in early. Our lodgings were just a short drive down Highway 13 and, compared to the suites we had in Eau Claire, we found the joint to be just a tad on the ratty side. It's not bad, really, as I've stayed in much worse joints. (There are a few such places near Joplin, MO.) Since our company had made the reservations (only after I asked the personal in charge of travel on Monday to get me a smoking room and was told that she had no idea we were going anywhere), everything should have gone smoothly as it did in Eau Claire. I was informed by the rather snarky manager that all the rooms were in my name and that she needed a credit card. So I gave her mine thinking that I'd just call my company later and have someone change the billing situation. She began to make the appropriate adjustments and proceeded to announce that my credit card number didn't match the one associated with our reservations. Now, why such a situation would throw a hotel manager for such a loop is beyond me. A company name, a credit card number, and two individuals – how she didn't manage to connect the number to our company is quite a feat. Still, I got things sorted out and put on my company's tab. Dan and I dropped off our bags and then headed back to the DNR service center.

We pulled into the parking lot only to find Ivan walking up to us. He had called Dan earlier to say that he was going to drive up himself instead of going up with us and Dan reported that he sounded a bit ornery. Never having met Ivan, I wasn't sure what to expect. He seemed to be in good spirits and quite amiable as well. I'd been warned that he wasn't the most technically gifted person, though, and would need some assistance. This did not turn out to be an issue; for me, at least. Unlike my first day in Eau Claire, Tuesday went quite smoothly. Our contact, Ryan, was OK although he seemed to be a bit stressed and was busy. We were expecting to have 17 boxes to upgrade but it turned out to be 11. Leaving the office that evening, we fully expected to be leaving for home on Wednesday night. And I must tell you that I got home this afternoon.

Retreating to my room, I tried getting on the Internet but to no avail. I had the bridge plugged in and Winders saw a network connection but there was no DHCP server to be found. I tried a different outlet but still nothing. (The hotel uses a system whereby the network signal goes out over the electrical wiring.) I was getting frustrated when there was a knock on my door. It was Dan wondering if I was going to accompany him & Ivan to dinner and a couple cocktails. I agreed saying that I'd be up for some chow but didn't want to stay out all night. With that, we hit the road.

Our first mistake was the turn that took us away from the joint that Dan was told about – The Chalet or The Goal Line. We turned around and found that the joint was a mere stones throw from the hotel. Walking in, we found it to be your typical Wisconsin tavern. The walls were wood and adjacent rooms held a pool table & a dining area. It was exactly the kind of place you'd expect an older crowd to come for a Friday night fish fry. Indeed, it was populated by a few middle-aged folks and a cute blonde bartender who looked to be in her late 20s. We found a trio of spots at the bar eager to order hop juice. The taps didn't offer much hope, unfortunately. There was Bud Light, Miller Lite, Miller High Life, and 3 taps of Inglenook wine including the Rhine variety. I must admit that it had been a while since I'd been in a bar that had wine on tap. I ordered a Miller as I prefer tap beer over bottled and canned. Not that Miller is particularly good, mind you, but it's palatable. It wasn't long before I discovered the bottled beer list, though. It mirrored the taps with only a couple varieties of Leines being at all interesting. Oddly enough, there was not a drop of Point to be had. Considering that Stevens Point is basically next door, one would think the local suds could be had. The Badger basketball game started and we quaffed to drown our sorrows as we watched them lose, never having had the lead once. With the game over, most of the regulars left and we continued drinking and chatting with the bartender who, in trying to rid herself of a hangover, had been making these massive Old Fashioneds in a mega-mug from a convenience store. A guy who looked to be around 30 came in and sat by us. We found out that he had just gotten into town from Columbus, Ohio. He was here on business and was a systems engineer who had been hired to do some testing on the equipment of one of the local paper mills. We revealed that we too were techies, of a sort, and he told us some interesting tales of toiling to keep the massive machines that make paper up and running. A tear in one of those gigantic sheets requires an hour at minimum to fix. The stuff flies by extremely quickly and there's a special kind of blow gun used to re-feed the sheet into the rollers. He also relayed a story about how he encountered one company whose server was running on Windows ME and all the problems it had. After he left, it was just the three of us, the bartender who introduced herself as Stephanie, and the lone waitress, Jamie. We chatted about our respective jobs, they bitched about their kids and what to buy them for Christmas – just the usual bar chat. Ivan was getting pretty drunk and he took off at some time that I cannot recall. We had ordered food earlier but he got his to go so he grabbed his cartons and left. But before getting out the door, he dropped his Styrofoam cup of chicken noodle soup. Stephanie said not to worry about it as she hated the gal who worked today, Lorraine. "Leave the mess for her," she quipped. Dan and I stuck it out until 11 when Stephanie kicked us out proclaiming that she had to get to another tavern so she could get her parlay cards in order and see some friends. With that, Dan and I headed into the night determined to find at least one of the two strip clubs that were to be had and, in general, paint the town chicken soup.