Buckle Up!
6/23/06

I’d like to take this opportunity to personally invite my classmate from Marquette University, Class of 2003, Mr. Dwyane Wade (and guest) to my wedding. Dwyane and I go way back, and unfortunately since he took a job offer in Miami, and I in Chicago, we haven’t been able to see much of each other.

But that’s the great thing about weddings. Friends and family come from all ends of the earth (or in my family’s case… all ends of the galaxy) to share in the joyous occasion. For those friends and family of mine, coming up from Chicago for the big event, congratulations! “Operation I do” is more than just a trip to the chapel and an undoubtedly over-priced meal, generously paid for by Jack and Dina Byrnes. For those arriving from the south, or as they refer to us in Wisconsin, “the Confederacy”, your journey allows your weekend to become an interactive history lesson in the story of Kristen & Jared. The stretches of I-94 and I-43 are the very same miles we have both traveled countless times during our courtship.

(Sidebar #62: I love the word “courtship”. It’s one of those words that sounds like it’s referring to something completely different from what it really is… like “suffrage”. “Courtship” sounds like the place where felons at sea are taken for a trial by jury. Sorry… nerd moment… leave it to a journalism major to sidebar about semantics.)

Back on the land, I urge you to take note of various landmarks along your journey.

1) The Great Pyramids of Waukegan, IL: Just north of Great America, and just shy of your 83rd toll, pay close attention to the eastern horizon. On a clear day you will notice what looks like the great pyramids of Egypt, rising from the trees. This is not a joke. They are actually there. No one knows quite why they are there, including my roommate Murphy, Waukegan born and raised. Personally, I think it’s a great idea, and have decided to open a T-shirt & Temporary Tattoo stand down the street from it, selling the phrase: “Why go all the way to Egypt when you can go to Waukegan and be home in time for dinner?” (Patent pending)

2) University Lawsonomy, Sturtevant, WI: Just inside the Wisconsin state line, you will see a sign for University Lawsonomy. Founded by Alfred William Lawson, this school was created to make Scientology look a bit less creepy. (Blogger Disclaimer: It is not my intention to offend any readers of different religious affiliation, however, born and raised Catholic, the very idea about aliens, evil spirits and reincarnation, just seems a little hard to believe. Catholicism is more factual… except for maybe that whole walking on water part… and the rising from the dead…) But Jew or Gentile, University Lawsonomy will undoubtedly leave you asking one question. Didn’t they forget the “of”?

3) Apple Holler, Sturtevant, WI: Not much to say about this place except best homemade apple pie you will ever taste. Pick one up on the drive home. (Remember it will be October so it will probably be crowded, but it’s well worth the wait.)

4) I-94/I-894 Split: Just before entering the Milwaukee, I-94 will split. When it does, the posted speed limit, will shift from 65 mph to 55 mph. Unless you drive a Buick or frequently wear white drawstring pants on your way to the early bird special at Old Country Buffet, chances are you’ve never driven 55 mph on an interstate. But if your plates say “Land of Lincoln” on them, I urge you to oblige for this short stretch of freeway. Wisconsin cops in general scout out Illinois drivers like women find shoe stores. I’m not quite sure the method behind the madness, but it has proven to be very effective. This stretch in particular is where I was caught earlier this year, and the fine they slapped on me, was enough to fund the entire reconstruction phase of the Marquette Interchange you will soon be approaching.

5) The Marquette Interchange, Milwaukee, WI: From atop this concrete castle (currently adorned with enough cranes to relocate the Golden Gate Bridge) you can see some of the best views of Milwaukee, birthplace of one of the greatest romances of all time. I-94 will take you straight through the heart of Marquette University, where we met and fell in love. But just as quickly as you will be leaving downtown Milwaukee, such is the speed at which the winds of fate drifted us apart. (Dwyane’s in Miami now, but we do hope to meet again soon.)

6) Copp’s Frozen Custard, Milwaukee, WI: Congratulations! You’ve passed the halfway point. Stop to reward yourself (or to silence the screaming kids in the back) by exiting at Silver Springs Road and heading south a few blocks for the world’s best frozen custard. With a new featured flavor every day of the month, you can’t go wrong. If it’s lunch time, their burgers are excellent, and I also recommend the pineapple shakes.

7) Cedarburg, WI: One time home of Kristen from Summer 2003-2004, Cedarburg is small town Wisconsin, right in the backyard of metropolitan Milwaukee. If it’s too cold for frozen custard, exit at Hwy C, and stop by the Airstream Trailer parked just west of the expressway for the best cup of hot chocolate you’ll ever taste. If you’ve got a little extra time, shoot further down Hwy C for a few miles and turn right on Washington. This road will take you into downtown Cedarburg and right by the Chocolate Factory, home of the biggest taffy apples you have ever seen. Way too big to tackle yourself, so split with a friend. Topped with everything under the sun. I recommend the Reese’s Pieces.

(Is it noticeable that I’m writing this over lunch?)

8) Are the Cows lying down? While there’s not much to look at between Cedarburg and Sheboygan, take a good look at the cows. Dina Byrns, mother-in-law to be, once told me that if the cows are lying down, it’s going to rain. (For your sake and mine, I pray that the cows are standing the weekend of the wedding. In fact, if they are not, I beg of you to pull over the car, get out and pull them up.)

9) Sheboygan-Kohler: Welcome to party central. The American Club is a quick mile west of the interstate, and virtually impossible to miss. In fact, along with the Great Wall of China, there is an American Flag flying over Kohler that can actually be seen from outer space. Rumor has it, the pole employed to fly Old Glory, was once used as a bridge connecting Hawaii to the mainland.

In a way, it’s almost as if the giant flag was placed there for this very occasion. Driving by it, year after year, I always felt it was an unnecessary exaggeration of patriotism. For whom did the flag wave out there in the middle of nowhere? The cows?

Perhaps it was a sign of things to come. Or should I say, people to come. People from great distances, coming to share in the journey that united two individuals, two worlds apart.

Enjoy the journey, safe travels, and no matter where the road of life takes you, may the cows always be standing along the way.

Ring Around the Country
6/14/06

This past weekend we took the ring on tour. The tour spanned over 600 miles and included 4 cities in 2 states, all within 3 days. Some might call that hectic schedule. Us Fockers-to-be, we call that a quiet weekend. For those of you who do not know us well, the road is our best friend. We pride ourselves in knowing every inch of interstate in the greater tri-state area. Cumulatively, we belong to 5 different frequent flyer programs though have yet to qualify for any free tickets. While we might not have written the book on long distance relationships, at the very least we’ve chartered the atlas.

This weekend’s excursion took us up north to the great state of Wisconsin. Wisconsin happens to be the home state of my blushing bride, and therefore, ground zero for “Operation: Get Hitched.” Our first stop was the town of Kohler, home to 10/13/07 Party Headquarters, the American Club. The American Club is the beautiful location Kristen’s parents have generously decided on to host our marital shindig. Until Friday, I had never been to the American Club, which until I was engaged, I did not see as such a great void in my life, however, I soon learned otherwise. Apparently I was sick the day the entire world went to the American Club, because it turns out everybody, and their mother (except of course, me and my mother) have been there. I assure you this is no exaggeration. In fact, I would go out on a limb and say that more people have been to the American Club than have been to Disney World. For example: review the following dialogue I actually overheard at the water cooler this morning:

Bob: Mornin’ Jim, how was your vacation?
Jim: Great Bob. Went to this place in Florida called Walt Disney World.
Bob: Disney, eh? Never heard of it. Nice?
Jim: Well… it’s no American Club.

If I didn’t know any better, I would say that most of my friends and relatives are more excited about the location than the actual event that will be taking place that weekend. (Which, of course, would be the round of golf at Whistling Straits.)

But in all fairness, upon walking the grounds, I have to admit, I too fell in love with the luxurious locale. Assuming mother nature cooperates, it’s suffice to say that the American Club will be the perfect storybook setting for what will undoubtedly be a fairytale ending. (“Cinderella story… outa nowhere…”)

From Kohler, it’s a quick 24 miles up I-43 to Manitowoc, WI, Kristen’s old stomping grounds. Manitowoc is famous for its cranes, its car ferry, and the biggest Wal-Mart I’ve ever seen in my life. In fact, I believe the Manitowoc Wal-Mart is represented in the Fifa World Cup, currently underway in Germany. (I believe they will play the Schaumburg Ikea in first round action.) We stopped in Manitowoc, to visit Kristen’s parents, Jack & Dina Byrnes. Knowing that I had already been warmly welcomed into the Byrnes Family Circle of Trust, I breathed a little easier. I was even pleasantly surprised to share in a champagne toast with the man who only weeks early had me pacing around my apartment in a cold sweat.

After exchanging pleasantries, we embarked even further north for Green Bay.
(Sidebar: At this time, it is probably appropriate to address the concern my fellow Bear fans might have with my marrying a cheesehead. Though I admit that marrying outside of the religion is frowned upon by many, I assure you that the root of our faiths is strong enough to hold us together. Though the pillars of our faith may vary on the gridiron, at the end of the day, we both believe in the same one, true God… who bleeds Cubby blue.)

Despite being home to the antichrist, Green Bay played home to a beautiful wedding of two great friends, Frances “Baby” Houseman and Johnny Castle. Baby went to high school with Kristen up in Manitowoc. (The school was located inside the Wal-Mart, aisle 32, just past the cereal.) Attending a wedding once you are engaged, gives you an entirely new perspective of things. You are no longer a guest. You are a consumer. The grand march is a fashion show, the dinner is a tasting, and the DJ is an American Idol audition, and you are Randy and Paula. (b/c let’s face it, nobody wants to be Simon) Despite our over-analytical critiques, Baby and Johnny’s wedding was a blast, and to boot, Kristen and I are pretty sure we’ve found our DJ too.

Sunday morning, we left Green Bay for Arlington Heights, IL, home of my parents, Frank and Marie, where we shared another champagne toast to the happy couple. (I’m told that’s me and Kristen.) We spent the evening ironing out the details for the big day, being that it was only 16 months away, and thus, right around the corner. It took a couple of hours but I’m pretty sure all of the planning is done, save a few minor details (such as vows).

So with our 4th and final city checked off the tour schedule, it was back home to Chicago for the night, before rising bright and early for Kristen’s return flight to Minneapolis in the morning. Driving home we reflected on the weekend’s events and wondered where the road to wedded bliss would take us next. Another state line? Most likely. Another champagne toast? Perhaps. Another American Club? No way, Bob!

A Card for Every Occassion
6/5/06

It happened as soon as I got home from work. I checked my mail and there they were, sitting innocently in my mailbox, in between the Giordano's Pizza coupons and an envelope informing me that there was a significant possibility that I was paying too much for my internet service. Given the fact that I mooch free wireless internet on my backporch from some guy named "JimGuy2118", I found humor in the highly innaccurate accusation.

After the laugh, I saw them. Envelopes addressed to two individuals. Myself and Kristen. That's a little wild the first time you see that, I must admit. I mean, I know I've been engaged for well over a week now, but so far it's only been by word of mouth. Now, according to the United States Postal Service, I was engaged. Doesn't get much more official than that.

--I guess I've always been intimidated by the post office. I think it's the uniforms. Why is a man, who makes deliveries for a living, required to dress like a member of the Knights of the Round Table? I mean, are the patches and special boots and hat really necessary?--

Long story even longer, it turns out I was getting engagement cards from friends and relatives who had heard the big news. It's really remarkable how fast word about an engagement flies. I'm actually quite surprised scientitsts don't use it to measure the speed of nuclear reactions. Think about it... "the plutonium reacted with the sulfur dioxide in the flux capacitor in approximately 7.2 engagement seconds." (One engagement second would be the equivilent to 1/100 of a nanosecond, or roughly the time it takes for one's entire extended family to learn about an engagement) The chapter would logically fall right in between the lessons on light years, and carbon dating.

It's really just a shame that other, more useful information, could not experience such a rapid filtration effect. Like, for example, I've told almost every girl I know that they look silly in capri pants. Yet, apparently there are still girls out there who haven't heard that, and thus still walk out of the house looking silly. Perhaps if i reworded the phrase to include the word "engaged" I'd have better luck.

But, capri or not capri, the fact of the matter is getting engaged has a tendancy to bring on a lot of firsts. In my case, very few of them tend to be wedding-related. For example, last week marked my first trip to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. (and thanks to the fine people at Northwest Airlines, such a trip also afforded me my first visit to the Detroit Airport, which it turns out, afterall, is clearly on the way to South Carolina from Chicago.)

Myrtle Beach reminded me of the long-lost twin brother of the Wisconsin Dells, and second cousin, twice removed from Dollywood. If you've never been lucky enough to visit any of these family vacation mecca's, I strongly recommend throwing caution to the wind and joining in the fun. Or stay home and rent "Ernest Goes to Jail." It's pretty much the same experience.

Yes, first experiences have come in plently since the engagement; the first time I ever asked a girl to marry me. (that is, unless you count my numerous proposals to Winnie Cooper on TV's "The Wonder Years.") But unlike Winnie, Kristen heard me when I asked, and more importantly she said yes. So I guess from this day forward, it will always be "Kristen & Jared" written on the envelopes in my mailbox. While that might be hard to swallow at first, at least I know that I can rest easy tonight, knowing that"Kristen & Jared" are definitely not paying too much for their internet service.