Madison and Back Again: A Sibling's Tale

So, last night, my sister and I drove up to Madison, WI to see Marc Broussard live (as in, "play in person", not "watch him eat breakfast and go about his day"). We were a bit wary, as the venue was about a block away from the Wisconsin capitol building, which was, that very day, playing host to some 40,000 various protesters from both the pro-worker unions and the Tea Party. Thankfully, by the time we got there, only a handful of the protesters remained, and the city had quieted down to its (presumably) normal state of "hipster invasion". Beards, flannel, and ironically un-ironic hats were inescapable. And they naturally congregated to the Majestic Theatre for Broussard's soulful crooning, along with some really obnoxious business dudes (who, as luck would have it, stood right behind us); some drunk married women who wanted nothing more than to flaunt the last remains of their waning sexuality to a crowd of uninterested music snobs; and that one creepy, old, balding (though still rockin' a ponytail!) guy in the front corner who kept having rhythmic seizures to every song.

"It's okay! He's just dancing!"

Despite having the absolute worst people at the concert standing behind us the entire time, whistling at ear-splitting levels, drunkenly singing along (and ad-libbing their own parts), and constantly bumping into us, the awesomeness of the music overrode any and all douchiness. Even the fact that there were only about 15 seats available, and the rest of us were stuck standing shoulder-to-shoulder on slightly uneven cement for the entire 3 hours of the concert didn't matter. Now, for those of you who have been keeping up with this blog, you've already heard my spiel on Mr. Broussard, so I won't bore you with details; suffices to say he was amazing and fun and seems like a really cool guy. I got a chance to meet one of the opening acts, Daniel and the Lion, and they were also super cool guys, with super good music. Other than that, Madison was cold, parking was surprisingly simple, and the beer was reasonably overpriced.

The concert ended a little after midnight, and Rachel and I still had a near 2½ hour drive home looming ahead of us. I took a couple of wrong turns that lost us several minutes, and we discovered that while the drive up to Madison was pretty bare-bones in terms of civilization, the drive back down at 1:00 in the morning was just plain desolate. Being the only person for miles on a long stretch of 4-lane freeway kinda gives off a creepy, I Am Legend vibe. Also, there's absolutely nothing between Madison and Lake Geneva. By 1:30 or so, our stomachs were starting to scratch and claw like wet ferrets.

The Wrath of God, incarnate.

Sadly, there were no McDonald's, no 24-hour convenience stores, no anything. We were half-tempted to bang on some dairy farmer's door and beg for some cheese and bread like little street orphans. It got to the point where we were turning every road name into some type of food, from Tamarack-of-lamb Drive to Flap-Jackson Ave. Finally, we spotted a set of golden arches cresting over the horizon. Seriously. We spotted it from, like, a mile away. Not only because our food-starved brains were kicking into survival mode, but also because it was the only visible light in the sky. At all. Overjoyed at the prospect of food, we pulled in and placed our order. Oddly, there were 3 other people in line with us. At 1:45am. And there was only one poor girl working there that night, having to ring up and prepare all of our orders. We honestly felt bad for the girl, but she was incredibly nice and friendly about it, and we really just wanted our food. We probably waited a good 10-15 minutes in line (at a McDonald's, mind you) before we finally got our food, and by that point, we were gnawing on our seat belts to keep the wet ferrets at bay. We parked and devoured our frozen, pre-packaged, deep-fried sustenance, and mocked the poorly designed strip mall next door. While the signage and layout were baffling, the most bizarre shop consisted either of some New Age tanning techniques or the most pampered coffee beans known to man.

???

As we finished our meals, in an event both hilarious and harrowing, Rachel discovered that there were pickles on her cheeseburgers, which I had specifically asked the kind lady at the drive-thru not to include, as Rachel despises even the concept of pickles.

They're watching you. Always watching....

From there, it was another wrong turn and a mile or so on some random back road. From there, we managed to get on to the freeway again, with almost an hour still to go. We entertained ourselves by mocking Wisconsin, talking about The Sims, listening to the new CD I'd bought at the concert, mourning the bankruptcy of Giordano's, mocking Wisconsin, talking about Lord of the Rings, making fun of my music listening habits (I tend to put a few current favorites on repeat ad nauseum), discussing the finer points of alcohol, and maybe mocking Wisconsin once or twice.

Our grand and epic journey came to its bittersweet end upon our arrival home around 3:00, dog-tired (or maybe in Rachel's case, cat-nappy) but wholeheartedly contented. And though the adventure has come and passed, it will live on forever in our hearts and minds, and in the annals of history scribed here, for all to see from this world to the next.

Except for you, Wisconsin... you don't get to read this.