On headin’ out on the highway and bridging the gap, often with a party purpose in mind — but not necessarily with cross purposes such as blowing up bridges (a frequent target) with nukes:

– Bartender Sue at the Village Inn is kind of a big bridge junkie, and she said that if not for the need to work her required weeknight shift, would have been traveling the new Stillwater crossing by car herself, just to check it out. But being stationed behind the bar, she had to rely on word of her regulars about the official opening. One of them, named Steve, relayed the information that the rise from the water up to the pavement is indeed much higher than expected, and this coming from a tall man. Meanwhile, the lift bridge was officially closed for traffic, and the last car to pass through was one from a local antique car club, where one of its members drove an auto made back in 1931, the year the lift bridge was erected. After that car went through, the last of about two dozen in the club dating back to 1917, that span was shuttered. A friend of mine said that she knew the couple who, on the other end of things, arrived hours early and were the first to cross the span. All this gives the bridges a bit of intrigue, and I told Sue that if servers had off, they could go back and forth, back and forth, time after time, to maximize their enjoyment. No, I wasn’t talking about sex, rather a bridge junkie’s dream junket between Minnesota and Wisconsin.
– On the Village Liquor sign in North Hudson: “Just relax on this planet ride.” Maybe that’s just like that classic Black Sabbath song, Planet Caravan, which was all the rage when youngsters rode their slow speed up to Somerset for the old metal mega-concerts. Now that OJ is parolled, he just might get another Bronco and join in on the chase, such as it is, as he is familiar with such undertakings.
– Other intriguing messages on signs, these more serious and (possibly) less comedic: On the Kozy Korner marque, reads “Get your water balloons, the end is here.” And even in times of strife, people have to keep a sense of humor about such things. Which is why I told (prompted?) my favorite quipster bartender downtown, that hey, beer sales should be way up, because if you get nuked, even by friendly fire, and your tongue is chiming in at several thousand degrees, something will follow. You’ll really, really want to quench your parched and burned, thirsty throat with a drink or two. To which he suggested, also chug some red hot sauce, as it might be more effective than antibiotics for the medical side of that burn. And as he has said earlier, before the Mexican wall became a mere afterthought because of the scandal of the day, maybe that wall should be built on the Mason-Dixon Line! Funny …
– And one last moment of levity, (a phrase a friend of mine hates): What are the three most difficult jobs in America, not in any particular order — Being a bartender or cocktail waitress, being a maid at a place such as Trump Tower, or just being a Trump apologist. OK, enough of my rant.
– The 93X morning show hosts were saying that they eventually came to understand that you should never wear white underwear, but this late-coming revelation didn’t take sway until the need to do the laundry themselves, they said. Took you that long to figure it out … Maybe that’s why they call themselves the “Half-Assed Morning Show.” And I’m guilty of that “wardrobe malfunction” myself … sorry about the visual.
– For everything there is a season, or maybe more than one. A Leine’s product, called Oktoberfest, is now on tap “seasonally” as says the sign at Pudge’s — does this mean the summer is gone already? This is like the empty downtown Hudson storefront that said a remodel would be done by “spring 2017,” but again summer had already arrived and everything was still shuttered, although the sign remained with similar language. We hope that the new Ellie’s owners, who say a new version of the venue will be ready by fall — again via a sign out front — keep their word. Seems likely, as the front has just now been the site of plywood reconstruction and a dumpster.
– When the border battle came to a head with the Twins blowing out the Brew Crew at a Minneapolis contest, a trio of disappointed Milwaukee fans left early when they saw there was little hope — and turned instead to travel to the local Buffalo Wild Wings to drown their sorrows. The last straw, they lamented, that made them bolt, was a Twins grand slam that made any hope of a comeback unreasonable. So basically, Hudson won.
– This being the time of year for Viking two-a-day drills, it seemed only likely that the local sports-watching mecca, Buffalo Wild Wings, would offer Boneless Twosdays on the day before hump day, the gist being two-for-one wings. They announced this to “hey fans,” starting on Aug. 22 — but wait, by that time two-a-day drills might be done in Mankato forever.
– With persistent rain going on outside, there still were some doings at Dick’s, to dredge up a dollop of fun before closing on a slow night. A man was about to locate his buddies again so they could still make the run to the Turtle Lake casino and get there just before dawn. On the way out he wished a happy birthday to Mackenzie, who was celebrating with her longtime best bud — they both even had the same color fingernails painted for the occasion — pine green.

Talk of the new Stillwater bridge opening was all the rage at The Next Stop in Houlton in recent days. One older patron, who was relatively new to the area, said he bought his first car, a Model A, at about the time people and politicians alike started talking about such a project to replace the also old and overworked lift bridge.
But for that day, the man and his buddies couldn’t cross the lift bridge right away — it is set to soon be closed for yet another rehab — so they settled for watching traffic while at the Irish pub complete with big patio, less than a football field away from the mechanical apparatus that goes up and down to let boaters through. That’s before settling into a bar stool at The Next Stop.
It is the former kind of viewing that familiarized them with the two-dozen-or-so members of an antique car club that sometimes clog the old lift bridge as they pass into Wisconsin. With the new bridge, they could now be less of a disruption, as they make their way over to Hudson, then cross the Interstate 94 span to get to a Lakeland haunt and revel a little. When doing this on that particular day, they would have seen the big neon traffic sign that goes up now and again to announce the closing of the lift bridge — this time short and sweet, not getting into a lot of dates for closing and reopening.
And lastly, this elderly observer who has done this for awhile noted that it would be good for business for the two taverns in Houlton to offer a cart to truly let people Escape to Wisconsin, going over the lift bridge in a year-or-so when its transformation into only a biking and walking bridge is complete.
– They all start with BR, and that’s not to mean they’re your brother. I teased a new bartender about her name, saying that a new study shows that 27 percent of those in the serving industry go by Brandi, although the spelling beyond the first letters differs radically. Then her somewhat older co-worker and I invoked the names given by Frank Zappa to his children, but the younger of the three of us had no clue about that. At which time I upped the ante, saying that between Brandy and Brittney, 44 percent of those in the trade respond when called that.
– This bit of wisdom from a local bartender, on being tipsy together. After many years of marriage, she and her much heavier hubby have eventually learned drink-versus-drink synchronicity, in other words getting fully toasted at exactly the same moment, one of those things where it’s only a matter of time before you morph into being your spouse. Now take that alike timing to the bedroom … I wasn’t going to go there.
– The late-night national TV news showed a bus in Houston that had burst into flames. Not to make light of that, or the news event I’m about to reference, but this is the ultimate example of a no-brainer great headline. Back in my days with the Hudson Star-Observer, I once took the initiative (bosses usually at least claim to like that), to pull myself off of deadline and take a photo of a stalled Greyhound bus that might or might not have its back end on fire. When arriving on the scene, I saw the typical front-and-center placard of destination — lets just add that its the same as last week’s accident and both are from the same city in Texas. The obvious headline, certain to be recognized by the crew that listen to classic rock? “Houston we have a problem!” When back at the office, and writing a deadline story about every 97 seconds or so, I did still find the time to on two occasions briefly share my I-thought-clever headline with a co-worker, and the now-departed publisher heard it both times and boy was he pissed! Seems he subscribes, or should I say subscribed, to the idea that you should keep your nose to the grindstone every second of every day, somehow find the time to make those extra calls(s) on deadline to get added accident info, and forgot that cup of mocha. But Steve, its all OK now, the fire is out.
– Perhaps this is something that would be even more appreciated in the ladies room. In the guys bathroom at Dick’s Bar and Grill, setting on top of the metal towel cabinet was Frebreeze odor freshener, the variety of flavor chosen simply saying “air.” Would be more impressed if that was the Tropical-Mango-Pumpkin-scented variety.