We made an early start that day, destination Milwaukee, not exactly the Wild West but the home of Pabst Brewery, founded in 1844. In the hospitality room, we were allowed up to, but not exceeding six glasses of beer, poured out by a waitress who kept count. The limit was easy to circumnavigate. I sat on the same table as a group of cooperative teetotallers, and had a thoroughly good time.
If only the waitress looked like this!
Instead of like this...or had I drunk too much?
After that it was off to the Wisconsin Dells on the Wisconsin River, and a ride on the DUCKS, amphibious craft driven by a bunch of comedians.
If you tried really hard you could imagine Jean Nicolet with his ‘thunder-stick’ (great name for a porn movie) sailing alongside, seeing the same spectacular sandstone cliffs passing by. But the Winnebego Indians have gone, replaced by tourists and beer.
For my next trick!
The thought, or perhaps a surfeit of beer, brought me down, but things picked up later with Roland's eight gallon vat of planters punch. There was a warm buzz that evening, and it wasn’t the mosquitoes.
Small things are important. We had tacos for dinner, then retired to the camp bar. Another Aventours group had arrived, staying in motels instead of tents. I danced with a very confused South African girl (originally from Yorkshire) who supported Apartheid but was in love with her New York coach-driver who was black. She wanted sex, but not with me because I didn’t drive a coach.
Later that night, Ron, a young and very clean cut boy from Long Island got spectacularly drunk, and I nursed him helped by a beautiful red-haired Australian girl called Caroline.