Wisconsin, Part II: Madison, a Supper Club, and Beloit

After I showed Zack the glories of New Glarus Brewing on the first leg of our Wisconsin trip, we tuned the volume down on "Whad'Ya Know?" and sped up to Madison.

Madison was my favorite day trip destination during college, and my morale depended on semesterly pilgrimages to A Room of One's Own*, Monty's Blue Plate Diner, and too-cool-for-Beloit stores like American Apparel and Urban Outfitters.  I tried my best to fill our evening with some of its greatest hits.


First up: Tex Tubb's Taco Palace.
Not pictured: ample Willie Nelson paraphernalia, and the wall where Texas natives with valid ID's may sign the walls. 

We tried hard root beer floats, and one of my tacos involved a fried avocado.

Then we took a quick stroll around Henry Vilas Zoo, where the resident badger -- who PRANCED LIKE  A BOSS the last time I was there -- was nowhere to be seen. We did see these depressed buffalo, though, and I apologized to them on behalf of all white people. 

What better way to forget your Manifest Destiny troubles than a trip to Ella's Deli? It's a kosher deli that's full of animatronic stuff. There's no other way to explain it. It's unfathomably cool, and unfathomably overwhelming, but I found some new favorite displays as we strolled around with our ice cream cones: 

This animatronic Michael Jordan stuck his tongue in and out in a way that was 6% erotic and 94% creepy as hell.

After we fled MJ's advances and freshened up at our AirBnB apartment, Zack and I strolled around the capitol and campus.

We touched Abraham Lincoln's toe for good luck, but then Zack got the bad luck of listening to me recap that Blythe Danner scene in "The Last Kiss" that takes place below on Bascom Hill.

Forward, Badgers!

THIS IS A LITERAL REVOLVING DOOR OF HISTORY. I still think it's the most hysterical thing I've seen all summer.

... But this was pretty funny, too.

We also huffed used books at Paul's Books, which I love because it reminds me of the bookstore in "Hannah and Her Sisters."  (No one, not even the rain, has such small hands.) 

We still had time to kill before our dinner reservation, so Zack took us to The Old Fashioned on a friend's recommendation. I'd love to go back -- not only did Zack try his first brandy old fashioned there, but I saw this spectacular photo on the wall of the Wisconsin boxing team peddling sauerkraut in 1939. 

During our romantic dinner at Tornado Steakhouse, Zack did the most romantic thing of all: appreciated the strange rituals of a Wisconsin supper club supper. Was he bewildered by our assortment of rolls and our own tiny loaf of bread? Yes, but not as bewildered as he was by our glass of radish roses and other snacks. (A blurry photo is below -- Tornado is much too nice a place to take goofy iPhone photos!) By the time the au gratin potatoes, his steak, and my walleye arrived, however, he was sold. Mission accomplished. 

Above: another I-hope-I'm-being-subtle shot of the Tornado bar, where we had more old fashioneds as a nightcap.

In the morning, we drove down to Beloit for the  Commencement ceremony. 2013 graduates were freshmen when I was a senior -- several of them were my charges during my stint as an RA -- and I couldn't let them go without subtly crying at the glory of it all and yelling as they crossed the stage.  (I'm not sure "diehard alumna" comes close to describing my relationship with Beloit, but I'm neither worried nor sorry.)

The ceremony begins when the graduating class splits into two lines, which faculty and staff pass through to lead everyone to the stage.  The guy with the stripes on his arm is Scott Bierman, our president, and behind him is Senator Tammy Baldwin, Commencement speaker and hero to all.  (When the ceremony is over, the faculty parts to let the graduates pass through, signifying their equality as learned people/humans, which turns me into a big blubberbaby every time.)

I got a picture with Scotty B. (or Scotty BFF, as I call him when he can't hear me), plus a picture with Bert, my fellow improviser and class of '13 dearheart.

After the ceremony, while the graduates ate boxed lunches on the lawn and stared dead-eyed into space as the gravity of their graduation problem hit them, I took Zack to The Bell.  A "bell run" is the streaking route of choice on campus, and touching The Bell marks the halfway point. He may have kept his clothes on, but I still think it counts. (Ask me sometime about the night I stepped on a rusty nail while doing a Bell Run, or don't.)

Wisconsin, you are the greatest state in the Union. May you ever pour brandy old fashioneds Forward into my glass, and may your cheese curds remain ever-squeaky. 

* I missed the memo about A Room of One's Own's relocation, and completely panicked in the street when it wasn't where it was supposed to be. Thank heaven you're still there, old friend.