Well, freedom AND cheese.
So, Wisconsin.
When we toured the lower portion of Wisconsin, I had a focus goal of just one thing: visit The House On The Rock. I had read about it in American Gods. I had seen the episode of American Pickers. It intrigued me, and it seemed like the sort of place my whimsy would fancy.
Ryan and I thoughtfully booked a package deal with the official hotel of The House On The Rock, which included a night's stay, breakfast, and the full tour of The House, with a generous 10 tokens.
"What do the tokens do?" Ryan asked.
"I have absolutely no idea," I replied.
We arrived at the hotel nice and early, and the front desk manager kindly began the check in process and gave us our tour tickets, despite a 3pm "official" check-in time. I noticed the place was oddly quiet, but we're noticing that nearly everywhere. School is back in session, the leaves are turning colors, and people across the US are hotly debating whether Pumpkin Spice is appropriate yet.
The House on the Rock had just opened for the morning, and aside from a pack of bikers and one very enthusiastic young fellow, we were alone. I'm not sure if this was for the better... or for the worse.
The tour is self-guided, and you follow a pre-determined route through each section of the house. There's a very helpful staff member at the entrance to each section, and they validate your ticket and send you on your way.
First, you walk a long walkway above the gardens, and it's quite lovely. Then, you enter the museum section, and learn the history of The House. Everything is quite well-lit and pedestrian. Then you walk through the Buddha garden, and isn't that lovely.
When you enter The House, everything changes.
It is dark. It smells of Old House and Frankincense. You can smell the layers of mid-century dust that have not been disturbed. The fraying carpet, the old shag fabric on the furniture... all of it seeps into the senses... quietly. So quietly.
In the first room, as we watched a robotic invisible orchestra play "Bolero" to just the two of us, I mused aloud, "Can you imagine partying in this place? Drinking too much, and trying to find your way from dark, low, red-carpet room to dark, low, red-carpet room?" Ryan nodded agreement, but I don't think he really thought about it.
The maze continues. The rooms are dark, and you lose all sense of direction. You go up. You come down. Suddenly, you are in the Infinity Room. The floors creak and pop, and the room itself sways in the breeze above trees that seem miles below you.
At this point, I was filled with a cheeky bravado that comes from doing something you've always wanted to do. I watched with curiosity as invisible bands serenaded me. The young fellow trotted along enthusiastically, pointing out interesting objects to the women who accompanied him.
The place grew dimmer and dimmer, and more and more objects were crammed into more and more space.
We went up. We went down. We walked out of doorways only to forget which of the many doors we had just exited. Even the bathrooms were not immune from curiosities.
It felt as though there was no exit from this nightmare. Just more hints at barely contained terror, amidst the distant clang of some automaton orchestra wailing to passersby.
We discovered the purpose of the tokens. Occasionally, you would spy a musical feature that would be happy to play itself, for the low price of 1 or 2 tokens. There were also some automaton displays that would cheerfully enact scenes of death, mysticism, and demons... for a price. Ryan and I were so fascinated by "The Death of A Drunkard," we watched it twice.
Before long, we were in The Streets of Yesterday. Much like The Streets of Yesteryear at our local science museum, the cobbled paths were lined with replicas of shops and businesses with a strong 19th century take. Unlike The Streets of Yesteryear, these were not mundane and historical. These were windows filled with the cold, staring eyes of hundreds of dolls. These were medical practitioners who promised results with worms and leeches and electric shocks. Everywhere you looked, a docile facade whispered untold quantities of future nightmares.
I cannot tell you where I began to feel uneasy, but I assure you, I was sufficiently creeped out as we exited The Streets. Memories get blurry as my general unrest grew. We wound up and up and up around a giant model of a whale eating a boat while examining maritime history... largely regarding wrecks, casualties, and the occasional menu from a cruise ship. Below us, a robotic octopus cheerfully clanked out a few bars of "Octopus's Garden" for a token.
We wound our way back down through Burma Shave signs that brightly chronicled a variety of road deaths in rhyming ditties. There's a giant Rube-Goldberg machine that sporadically clucks like a chicken. The smell of pizza crept in among the Old House and Frankincense that pervaded the environment, and we crossed the cafe to get to the next part.
The next part, as it were, was another dark maze- this one of full animatronic orchestras, which yelped and hummed to hushed tourists for tokens. Here, you could sit on carpet-covered benches and be serenaded by the devil's own musicians, as drums pounded themselves, violin bows flitted unaided, and organ keys pressed themselves with fervor.
The Carousel Room is allegedly quite a sight, and allegedly the World's Largest Indoor Carousel. I do not know if that is true. Personally, I'm almost convinced the carousel is a portal to another dimension, because it is truly terrifying. I wouldn't even take a picture of it. None of the characters on the carousel are horses. There are gargoyles, grotesques, monsters, and a bulldog, but no horses. The horses are on the wall beside the carousel.
Above you fly scores of half-hearted mannequin angels, all of whom have had a long run of it since their installation. It's very much like being swarmed by a variety of very tired, very harrassed working women who just want a bath and a cigarette before bed, and can you knock off that racket?
Then, because why not, you walk through a demon's mouth and enter a room full of organ parts and sleds. I cannot explain it, but at this point, I was actually petrified. Maybe it was the larger-than-necessary pipes and tubes that ran around the room. Maybe it was the reflection of the red carpet in the dim light on so much metal. Maybe it was the soft organ music that didn't seem to come from any of the visible instruments. I had to get out of there, right away.
The next room took us spiraling around a doll carousel. A carousel, ridden by dolls. Somehow, this was less terrifying than the organ room. We toured through scores of dollhouses, which I found fascinating, and climbed up and around the dolls that circled unblinkingly on their mounts.
The largest unmanned orchestra was under repair, so we finished the tour in an eerie silence, until we burst back into the Carousel Room towards the exit.
I was so relieved to be out of the maze, I managed to get lost in the small but quaint Japanese garden.
We swung by the gift shop for a postcard and a cold drink, then walked briskly but not conspicuously from The House On The Rock. I didn't want it to know I was scared.
As we drove away, I muttered to Ryan that I really needed a drink, and he delivered us quickly to New Glarus Brewing.
After our adventure at The House, I half expected Willy Wonka to pop out of a doorway, but New Glarus was really quite lovely. They let you wander around the facility to watch actual beer production, and you get to keep the glasses. They give you tokens, too, which can be used in the nearby town for additional beers.
We chose to use our tokens at the Glarner Stube for one very specific reason: they have a famous fondue.
They also have a rather famous bratwurst, which we shared. The bartender was super friendly, and we worked our way towards a cheese coma while we talked about beer, traveling, the state of Ohio, and how to make a Harvey Wallbanger with tequila. It's good. I tried it.
After dinner, we spent a significant amount of time in the House On The Rock Inn's hot tub, letting some of the aches roll off of us. We were more or less wallowing in fondue, so we more or less took up space on the bed and looked a bit glazed. The next morning, we enjoyed our breakfast and hit the road.
A week later, we were back.
Ryan is a HUGE Packers fan, and he wanted to spend some time in his element. I respect this.
We spent the night near the Apostle Islands, but unfortunately, it was too rainy and cold to do too much adventuring.
We walked around and snapped a few pictures, then got back on the road for Green Bay. Initially, we were going to spend one day there, and the next day in Door County, but the weather predicted severe thunderstorms, so we doubled down on our hotel and spent two nights in Green Bay.
Our first night, we headed to Title Town Brewing. We sat at the bar, and were immediately taken in by Craig, the bartender, who seemed genuinely interested in giving us the best experience possible. He recommended the cheese curds, a bowl of their very special New England Clam Chowder, and a very famous (and spicy) elk burger. Sold. We split all three dishes down the middle, and Craig did not steer us wrong.
Then, though I really didn't need another beer, we headed across the parking lot to their tasting room and rooftop patio, where I was introduced to the magic of GLITTER BEER.
We were both exhausted, so we headed back to the hotel as the sun went down. I sprawled out on the king sized bed, and it was an almost immediate lights out.
The next day, we planned to go to Lambeau Field, take the tour, shop for some souveniers, then "find some other stuff to do."
First, we went to The Pancake House. It was said to be the best breakfast in Green Bay, and though it was the only breakfast I had in Green Bay, I'm inclined to agree.
Once at Lambeau, we checked out the tour times, and discovered only one available package time- 4pm. So. We bought our tickets. We toured the Hall of Fame.
We shopped for t-shirts for something like a year in the gift shop, which is enormous, and contains nearly anything you can think of, stamped with the Packers logo or name or colors.
They have a brewpub inside the stadium, so we stopped for a beer. Still full from breakfast, we agreed we should probably grab a pizza before we went back to the hotel, so I did a little research into the best local pizza. Then we did some more shopping.
Finally, it was time for our tour. We dutifully marched around the stadium, sitting in the Alumni box, walking through the players' tunnel, and shouting "Go Pack Go" across the length of the field.
Ryan was elated, and it was great to see him in his element. We did, in fact, pick up pizza that evening- a delicious, but not-so-photogenic Chicago deep dish steak and mushroom pizza. We had a salad, too. I worked on this blog while Ryan drank beer and watched a movie, and we slept very nicely, knowing that the next day would be a long drive into Michigan.
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