There He Go
Well, it took all of about five minutes for Milwaukee to feel like home, or rather, not have it feel strange. Same difference.
And since it took about the same amount of time to make the choice as to whether or not to move out here - thanks to some very good advice from many of the TLBR loyal royals out there - I'm sensing a pattern.
The flight here yesterday was OK. Not great. Just OK, despite having flown Midwest - Consumer Reports' "Best Domestic Airline." Midwest is great, every seat is a first-class sized leather seat and they give you freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. What else can you ask for? (well, you could ask for a lot, but then you'd have to fly Hooters Air and they, unfortunately, don't go to Mil-walk-kay).
The woman next to me started off her day with a double Tanqueray and milk and was blotto-ed for the hour and a half, and the waitress er, flight attendant, spilled ice cold water on my and my book about Ted Williams. And the plane inexplicably sat on the tarmac for 20 minutes. But other than that, it was a real cracker jack of a flight segment.
Afterleaving the airport, I headed to Miller Park to catch the Brewers and Marlins' day-game, get-away day extravaganza. Miller Park was nice. It's not the Jake, it's not Camden Yards, it's not PNC, but it's nice. The bratwurst was delish, the soda cold, and the peanuts, um, nutty. Marlins won in 10.
After the game, I checked in and hit the indoor waterpark in the hotel. Me, 30 years of age, in a big-assed pool with water slides, and a gaggle of 10 year olds...I felt like a creep. All you needed was a giraffe and that was Neverland ranch. So I took a few spins down the green slide and took off. A few milfs, though... But I digress.
Then I ventured out to meet and greet my new town. I hit the mall, walked around, got a great deal on some jeans at TJ Maxx, and headed to Mo's - my new local.
Mo's. Not Moe's. Just Mo. Mo has a lot of restaurants in the two block radius. There's Mo's Irish Bar, where I was. Mo's Steakhouse. Mocha - his coffee bar. Momentum, his seafood place. Mo's Cucina, which is his Eye-talian joint, and Mo is working on a few more places, sure to have a catchy name with "Mo" in it. I will hopefully report on all of them.
Now, if you've been to Dublin town, you'll know how different the Guinness tastes. If you've been to Amsterdam, you'll know how much better the Heineken is. And if you've been to Australia (check!), you'll know that Foster's is still piss but James Boag is a saint.
Well, Miller Lite - my beer to have when I'm having more than one - is the same out here. It's like heaven. Imagine a nice two-pound maine lobster with warm drawn butter. It's like that, except you don't get messy hands from cracking shells. And, it's $2.75 a pint. And, at the MillerTime Pub in my hotel, it's $4.00 for a 22 ouncer. Over/under on my entering a 12-step program?
But at Mo's, after a great dinner and a tremendous convo with the new boss and another future colleague, I stayed around and listened to Gould and Patrick. These two lads are members of a bigger band, the Orphans, and they played a bevy of covers ranging from the Clancy's to Kelly Clarkson. The kicker of it all is, they give you a pamphlet of al the songs they'll play and a few slips to jot down requests. Oh, and they're shampoo-ing awesome. Did an amazing cover of (lo.....lei....) Fields of Athenry, followed by Yellow and With or Without You. Terr-if-ic.
I left around 11, ventured back to the Hilton, and stopped in for a nightcap at the Miller Time Pub, located centrally at the bottom of the elevator. I met Chris, a nice fellow who is opening his own bar - Buckhead's - ironically enough, on my first official full night in Milwaukee. My man Chris is originally from Atlanta and had lots of nasty things to say about the winters out here, but I didn't care.
Then there was Bob. Or James. Or Randall. Or Wally. I dunno. I dun care. This guy rolled up to me...me...sitting alone in an almost empty bar...nursing my Miller Lite...in the same town that Jeffrey Dahmer BTK'ed a whole bunch of people. Yeah, don't think that didn't cross my mind.
So he gets the convo going and me, never one for abstaining from innocently busting someone's balls to their face, took charge. I introduced myself as Ron and the stories kept flying. I worked at Enron. My wife threw me out of the house because I painted the family car like a cheetah. I moved to San Diego (Which is German for "Whale's Vagina." He didn't know that.) and I married the girl of my dreams - Veronica Corningstone. She's a network anchor and shags link a minx.
Bob/James/Randall/Wally works for AIG. AIG sells insurance. Bob/James/Randall/Wally tried to sell me insurance. I tried to get B/J/R/W to not sell me insurance. I let him speak for 10 second increments and then I'd say "YES!" or snort like a donkey and nod in agreement.
I asked him how much my ex-wife would get if I lit myself on fire on the front lawn of the house I had to give her in the divorce. I asked him how much could I collect if I were killed in prison. Or jumped off the roof of the hotel.
Finally, I think B/J/R/W got the picture, handed me a card, and left. I plan on contacting him again. And again. And again. And again. Because I have issues.
The Two-Time Defending World Champion New England Patriots (check!) are playing the Green Bay Packers tonight in preseason football. By the way, the Packers are a big deal out here, in case you were wondering. So I got that going for me.
And I did happen to see the "highlights" of the One-Time Defending World Champion Boston Red Sox (check!). I wonder if WEEI nation is killing Schilling or writing the whole season off yet. I prefer not to talk about losing two of three to the Kansas Shampooing City Royals. But it's not over.
Ok, onto meeting my other new friend Jewel and checking out the new deee-luxe apartment in the sky.
And I would've gotten away with it, if it weren't for you meddling kids,