Vince Lombardi, Bill Murray, and Mark Nilsson

I awoke in Harris, Michigan Sunday morning thinking I would explore the area. I drove around a bit, but only found the forest among the trees. And there is a lot of that. So, I decided to just be on my way, even skipping thier 1pm poker tourney.

The drive westward towards Wisconsin was sunny and easy. I arrived in Green Bay many hours later, feeling a little bit of a buzz. This was home to Vince Lombardi and Brett Favre, there was no mistake about it. This was indeed Packerland. I dropped into downtown and was astonished.

I knew it was not a big city per se, in fact, much smaller than Omaha, Nebasaka. However they did have a few 30 story or so, brick buildings, with distinct mid-western architecture. Everything nice, together, and ...kinda pseudo-normal. The one thing that stood out, actually did NOT stand out, were the people.
It was a ghost town. 6pm and a ghost town. It took me 40 minutes to find a hotel. Another half hour after I checked in, to find someplace that was open, to grab a bite to eat. I could understand if the Packers were playing the NFC championship game, but no, they are actually very mediocre this year, and they aren't even playing until Monday night.

In any event, they do have a casino, and with a large poker room. I played some live cash NL (No-LImit). Some guys were cool. Some were arrogant and a pain in the ass. But all the dealers were top notch. I stuck around long enough to lose a few hundo. Just bad luck mostly, not much I could do when full boats are made every fifth hand.

I sauntered back to my hotel room, tail tucked in tightly, and decided to watch some tv. After all the football and baseball highlights had been seen at least four times, I went back to the poker room. Just a few hours after I had left, it was all different dudes, but the same results for me.

I wouldn't say I was on tilt, but I was begining to wonder if I ever wanted to play NL again, aside from tournament play.

Again, I made the sad trek back to a hollow hotel room, in a city where I knew no one. Out of pure boredom, I played some 8-16 and 15-30 while watching the Bill Murray/John Candy/Harrold Ramos classic "Stripes." And thats the fact jack. Oh ya, with what I picked up online, I balanced out the day to nearly even.


That was last night. Today, not feeling the Green Bay buzz any longer, I headed south by southwest.

Of coincidental note, I stoped into a smelly little town called Nekoosa, still here in Wisconsin. I say smelly, because I mean stinky. Really stenchy. They have a wood processing plant with huge, train car loads of wood chips brought in. I think they compress the wood there because the whole town smells like particle board, except with heavy emphasis on the glue portion of the aroma.
I mention this town because, as I'm passing through, I stop into a tiny, nondescript mini-market/McDonalds (Kinda like the Chevron/McDonalds that have been springing up everywhere) and I walk into the bathroom, address the urinal, and begin to... well, do what men do when at a urninal. I then look up at the picture on the wall. And holy cow was I surprised. It was none other than a work by my cousin Mark. His copyrighted signature was there and all, M. Nilsson. As another sure sign of authenticity, was the painting itself. All the colors and style, were the same look as his now, in-family-famous, Kleenex box product.
Of all places.

I'll be in Lacrosse on Wednesday, and somewhere within the confines of Minnesota, on Thursday.