31 Jul 01

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Oshkosh - Part Two

Saturday evening, we caught a showing of Planet of the Apes. The consensus was that the story, costuming, and effects were quite good. Marky Mark, however, sucked. Fortunately, I could quite enjoy the movie by drawing an imaginary blind spot over him.

After the movie, the Cherub and I found ourselves standing in a parking lot wondering what to do next. I was up for a little stroll, and also for a drink, so we ambled across the street to a tavern which turned out to be quite a little delight. It was sparsely populated by a diverse mix ranging from young-n-wilds to a pair of quite elderly ladies who weren't averse in the slightest to cutting the rug with the young-n-wilds, depsite the nonexistence of a discernible dance floor. An unusual couple came in through the back door and immediately struck up some lively conversation with us. The female member was there for her tenth Oshkosh, her companion on his first. We found them fun and lively drinking and dancing partners, and with them commenced to get joyfully shitfaced.

The Cherub, it seems, likes Malibu Rum. I find that it tastes like suntan lotion. But I digress.

After we reached a most pleasant state of inebriation, the tavern closed amid fond farewells, and we adjourned to the motel for copious quantities of both water and red hot monkey sex. The latter was just too damned good to detail here. The former was H2O.

The next day began at something like 10:30 am for us. This was the final day, the travel day. We sprinted down to the field for a traditional corn dog and smoothie, then hit the Fly Market for some coveted goodies. Then it was back to the motel for another loving rendezvous with Wlofie before a hasty packing session. After that came the same trip, in reverse order. Or so it would have been.

Our airline was unable to produce the appointed airplane at the appointed time, so they handed us off to another airline, which laid us over in St. Louis instead of Chicago. It also stuck us into an MD-88 instead of a 727 on the second leg. This turned out to be significant, as we had plans to enter the Mile High Club on that leg, and the MD comes with tiny lavs. Nevertheless, due to heroic acts of contortionism and bravery, we were successful in our mission, and can now wear our badges with pride. I'll scan mine in for you.

So long and arduous was the journey, that upon arrival at Orlando, both of us were far too tired to do much driving. We wound up driving and napping alternately all the way down, thus stretching a three hour trip into something more like five and a half. During the first couple of hours, we napped at the same time, as neither of us were alert enough to get very far, thus screwing the idea of shift driving.

There are a thousand details I left out, but they'll probably surface over time. The whole thing was truly an amazing weekend.

Oh, the cheese curds. These are sour little nuggets of yellow cheese. Some people apparently love them. Eck. More power to them. 

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