Stimulating the Economy In the Dells

We have a confession to make. We stopped at a Burger King in the Wisconsin Dells.  You see, we’re not embarrassed that we stopped at a BK. No. It’s that we know right now, all of the Chicagoans reading this post are chuckling to themselves about the Wisconsin Dells park. 

 “The Wisconsin Dells?” I can hear them saying. “THAT’s your idea of adventure?”

 For those not familiar with the Dells (e.g. East Coasters reading this), it’s a town in Wisconsin that is full of resorts, mainly water parks & hotels. Each hotel has its own water park – some of them indoors and each one trying to out-do the other.

 There’s a downtown area of the town too. It kind of feels like any remaining soul in the downtown has long left.  Not that there isn’t commerce, it’s just that there’s only so many T-shirts and flip flop shops you can take before you begin wondering whether there are in fact any “locals” who shop here.

 There aren’t.

 Oh yea, and there’s a lake too. And one day a year or so ago, the entire lake drained. At once. As in, the ENTIRE lake! There was a huge amount of flooding after a torrent of rain. And the manmade lake just gave. It was incredible. No one was hurt, if I remember correctly.

 So, we found ourselves at the Dells at dinner time. We pulled in to the BK and found a few customers in line ahead of us.  There were three people working in the restaurant. Two in the kitchen and one woman at the counter. She was working the drive through, taking orders at the counter, and pulling all of the orders together in the end. Oh yea, did I forget to mention she was also making the french fries and delivering the food to cars in waiting and, eventually, to our table.  It was an incredible feat that she was able to juggle so many balls at once.

 The thing that stood out to us, however, wasn’t JUST that she was doing so many things at once. It was that she seemed to really enjoy it.  She had this fire in her eyes that you only get when you’re in “The Zone.” It was really cool to see.

 We were so impressed with her ability to do everything that we decided to give her a tip. We figured that tourism had to be down and the economy… well, you know.  Plus, she just deserved it. Anyone who puts that much energy into her job deserves a little something extra.

 So we approached her as she was bussing a table (another ability she has).  I told her we were really impressed with her and reached out my hands clutching a few bucks.  She politely refused. She said she didn’t want to take the tip. We insisted and she still refused. She said what would help the most is if we call the 800 number and tell Burger King. 

 I couldn’t believe it and was even more impressed with her.  So even though the food took a lot longer to come out and it was still fast food cuisine at the end of the day, sometimes it’s the effort behind your food that makes it taste all that much better.

A Charming, Classy Couple

“Ever notice that in Illinois it’s nice to be in a rural area because you don’t have to cringe every time you see a confederate flag?” Marc asked over lunch.  As I remembered our experience every time we had been in rural Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Virginia, I knew he was right.

Veterans march during the short Memorial Day Parade in Mt. Carroll, IL.

Heading back to Chicago from outside of Galena we stopped in the rural town Sycamore, IL for lunch.  We had cooked extra burgers the night before and so in our handy fridge we had our lunch supplies.  We stopped in at a 7-11 to pick up soda (sorry Chicagoans, I still can’t call it “pop”) and a bag of Sun Chips.

So, this brings me to my coming clean session with you all: I’m addicted to Sun Chips.  I can control my desire if it’s original flavor. Even Sour Cream and Onion, to my surprise, doesn’t sway me too harshly.  But it’s the Harvest Cheddar flavor that makes me stuff my face while making yummy, chewy sounds like Homer Simpson.

 We were in front of the Carroll County Courthouse on Memorial Day, surrounded by flags (see the pics).  And it was in this spot where my addiction turned into manipulating those around me.

Memorial Day flags in front of the Carroll Count Courthouse. Sycamore, IL.

 

After Marc noticed that I had been essentially ignoring my otherwise tasty hamburger, he took the bag and put it on the other side of him – far out of reach.  I defiantly took a bit out of my burger.

 He pointed and said – “Look! See! Look at your fingers!” My right hand had turned a shade of unnatural yellow.

 I ate my burger in silence, listening to the hundred or so American flags flap in the wind.

 We finished our lunch and Marc noticed the parking meters behind us and said something about their age. Noticing their analog dials, I agreed that they had a cool factor to them.  It was at this moment I spotted my opportunity.

 You see, a few months ago, Chicago’s long-serving Mayor sold all of the parking meters to a private company – LAZ Parking, LLC.  And yes, you can pronounce that “lazy.” He leased out the meters for 75 years for over a billion dollars. Consequently, in order to raise their revenue projections, Lazy Parking raised the meter rates on the very first day of the contract’s execution.  So, to park downtown, you have to pay $3.25 an hour.  In quarters.  For Marc and I, it was the final straw of being nickel and dimed in this city. But now is not the time for me to jump onto a soapbox.

 Now is the time to tell you how I scored big.

 “How much are they per hour?” I asked, knowing that Marc would take the bait. He stood up and the moment his back was to me, I grabbed the Sun Chips and started opening the bag. I thought the noise would stir his suspicion.

 It didn’t.

Afraid he would figure out my scheme the moment he saw the joy in my eyes, I shoved my hand into the bag and grabbed what I could. 

Scraps.   I couldn’t even grab a full chip, but I wasn’t going to waste anymore time in case my true intentions were to be discovered.  I threw what I had into my mouth and dipped my hand into the bag for a second round. I scored big this time and quickly moved the loot up to my mouth.

I thought the sounds of the crunch would tip him off, but alas, he was too interested in the meters.

For once, I thanked Mayor Richard J. Daley and for that matter his father Richard M. Daley for being half the reason in making his son’s terms as mayor possible. Without them, my diversion wouldn’t have worked.

Perhaps I am proudest not about thinking of the diversion in the first place, but for the quick thinking which followed and continued the farce.

“Wow, you can’t even use quarters in these meters,” he said. “A penny gets you 12 minutes, a nickel an hour and a dime 2 hours.”

“Wow!” I said in a muffled tone. “Is the color of the violation flag the same color on both sides?” I knew that would buy me only a few seconds, but that equates to a whole other handful.

He checked. I nearly bit my pinky finger. 

“What about…” now I have bits of Sun Chips spraying dust with each passing word “…. Spanish? Are the instructions in Spanish?” The air around me turned a beautiful hue of orange. It was desperate, I know. But so was I and it worked, for a short time.

He took one more look at me and I heard him ask: “Spanish?” He looked at the meter for less than a second and asked “Why the hell would it be in Spanish?” He looked back at me and saw the bag of chips in my hand and the lightbulb went off.

We both started cracking up and it took me a few minutes to be able to finish chewing my glorious Sun Chips between the bouts of laughter. 

After we had calmed down a bit, I watched Marc walk around the grounds as I finished my burger and the Sun Chips urge had somehow subsided. As he rounded the monument for Union soldiers, a sneeze caught up with him and surprised him before he could cover his mouth. The sun somehow managed to sneak a few rays of light through the overcast skies – just enough to catch the resulting spray. 

We both laughed because we knew that in addition to bringing our sense of adventure out West, we would also be bringing a whole new sense of class.