Hudson Wisconsin Nightlife

The Day The Music Died and then became A Month or More and then made lyrics and instrumentals carry on at least a partial revival, (maybe to just be closed off again soon), makes some nightclub owners cry less in their beer (but still only the 12 ounce kind).

(Before we could even consider rolling out the barrel and getting the economy via businesses opened again, things essential still were in need of want. Foremost among them — food. With ongoing record unemployment levels, it was all the more important to do things like feed your family, for cents on the dollar, so you could pay the rent or the mortgage. As part of an ongoing series of tips you won’t find anywhere else, to help you do such vital things, from the frugal/cheap German, see the fourth and fifth posts below on this page. And tell them HudsonWiNightlife sent you.)

The rollout to reopen Wisconsin’s businesses, with the bar end basically leading the way for good or bad and volume or no volume — and we’re talking not about music decibel level, but how much customer traffic comes forth and can bring risks in itself — and has been described as a virtual viral Wisconsin Wild Wild West, but in Hudson we are only talking, golly, Festus style severity, and that terming comes from the guv himself whose order was struck down to open the floodgates as right here is defined beer on tap. So it also has been characterized as slowly unfolding, mostly, with the bigger crowds in early-on-days being met with checkered weather, creating a patchwork of couple-hour busy spurts then famine, with the bar-belly-up people — and we’ll deal with that issue in a soon-coming post since the bar scene in the two-state area has been called the now defining factor in how we beat the virus — showing up at times you’d least expect in the tavern day, say really early at Guv’s Place, prior to even their well-known dart league starting. When factoring in brunch considerations and the happy hour hosting that is an independent kettle of fish; or is it, St. Croix County is just now on board to be a prime offender/originator as when its comes to partying, it’s only a couple of weeks now that the Mask People have fully appeared, and hopefully that also will keep viruses from rampaging across the border like some invisible Zebra Mussel, and this has really spurred the noticing and interest of visitors from the Milwaukee area. They spy the downtown Hudson sidewalks whether early or late, and the people interspersed between the vast number of promotional chalk signs — being from a southeast point that has been more of an incubation center.

<<Those who belly up to the bar may be the crux of a second wave, and this will be fully explored later as a popcorn-machine-meets ATM-machine crunch.>>

And some food venues have elected (purposely chosen word) that it might have been too early to open up at all, and they may have been Prophet, Priest (in the Judas sense) and King (in the Crimson and Diamond and Elvis sense). Every report you see has a far different take on the matter, largely dependent on location, location, location and the patchwork of health and what’s-allowable-where rules from different of those jurisdictions that differ widely by again, location, and can be at odds with each other. And some businesses have elected to stay the course further before fully opening their doors again, and not in any conceivable way put at-risk their customers and staff, and that decision can be driven by simple need for cash flow to start up again, and can you afford to wait it out. Here we go, local, and there are some rare but basically rich enclaves where there is simply enough money around in the mix to buy you a bit, or more than a bit, of time before you are finally forced to act. Uhm, where do you think Hudson fits in? And there you have it, another take in writing on why everything can be seen as ying or yang, this time from HudsonWiNightlife. And you think I’ll stop there? OK, some local businesses in the bar, food (broadly considered) and even salon focus have seen a full-fledged boon a couple of days ago, and some not nearly as much, and maybe that is a factor on a fast, whole-hog reopening when finally allowed, and for some not as much of a reason to rush. Part of this no doubt is the dependence on favorable weather and even on what days and even time of day it finally hits, as when there was that first warm day and timed around a three-day holiday, it looked like days or yore when magic filled the air downtown. We will ferret this out further.

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This newly contracted guru of how to chemically Keep The Country Clean and virus at bay — that’s the hand with the bottle — did the unthinkable with the other and obviously should have known better than anyone, HE SHOOK THE TRAINEE STYLIST’S HAND! A voice inside my head that said don’t look back, you can never look back, silently screamed NOOO! Where is Mr. Bill when you need him. Or maybe just Eddie, and save the fair maiden.

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So of all the oodles of tidbits that are telling about this whole reopening situation, even now that its been here, sorta, for a bit, how does this scribe who has all kinds of virus stories backing up in the stack and just can’t find the virtual space to print it all just like that, pull a rabbit out of the hat (hey, dated Easter reference) and dig up lots of newer news to keep things from getting trite? He has to act soon, we realize, as the soon-to-be second wave brings up all kinds of new contingencies, and what was old becomes new again, but will for a second go-round, majorly, require much more tweaking to work around that time snag, but that kind of redact is what HudsonWiNightlife is made for (we hope).
So what do many men of a certain age and ilk do — and we are not talking Viagra and all its counterparts, soon to be bought up by one company and create a monolopy, we are told, but not sure by whom or where. HudsonWiNightlife finally goes to the barber and gets a haircut for full throttle verification that also includes accurate scraping of the neckline, as much like bartenders, stylists know what the latest is, and most will freely share it, and even moreso if they are a female as talkative as the well-to-do ladies drying their hair.. Just check out any number of scenes in something like a Spike Lee joynt.
With that color of celluloid brought up, we must realize that how one sees that type of Protesting Light done in Hudson, until lately now when the shit-has-totally-hit-the-very-fancy-fringe factor and in this conservative white community and meant more outrage, is often: A middle-aged white guy standing outside at the curb, and not right on the edge, of his work at Accounting by St. Croix or such, semi-politely holds and wafts but not really waves a protest sign that features a watered-down paraphrase of an old Who song, while on his lunch hour. And this we must emphasize this is NOT the worker, in accounting I think, at a local drug store who lives in Oakdale and is much closer to the full force of the protests and who unwittedly inspired this admittedly very generic attempt at sarcasm. More gleaming is the sign in a vacant looking storefront in New Richmond, close to the now exploding bar scene in this now burgeoning city, on the following day, that stated the simple truth about the simply horiffic death in that simple three-word slogan. Or as my buddy would say: Horrendifying. So when the inevitable march with protest signs took place in Hudson, but was far less likely to shut down even a lane of main street then the lack of luck The Cities have had with closures of major highways, comparisons are readily apparent: To wit, the photos in the local paper showed exclusively young white women not screaming but chanting as one mass, shoulder-to-shoulder and kickin’ tha’ distancin’ thang to the curb. But as a slightly barbed counterpoint, without ever leaving the building as per Elvis, read on:
If you want something also timely and even a bit more biting, this from the pharmacist, who made the I think hilarious if not long remark when starting to work his 16-hour days, seven days a week, and said humor will get us all through, even though once he started wearing down from this grind, for the first time and then many more to come, I recall he looked very stressed and found it very difficult to laugh at our silly jokes, but here’s one that flew like, well you’ll see: I m going to talk to any of my older customers who are bearing a cough, then immediately catch a flight out while they still were being offered each night, to of all places Hawaii and their still-getting-rich hotel owners who put up a couple of cashiers as the first wave of defense, and then I’m going to let it be known that I might be one of those people they’d been fearing, and offer for the cost of a cheap domestic beer and an uhm $1,000 deposit, to go to the next place over instead to keep safety first for a few minutes and do the repeat of the same, and so on. Then by Sunday night he’d lay out plans to buy half the island. Why only half, you say, and the east half to boot? Ever hear of social distancing, mainland boardroom style? When the virus ebbs just a bit, its off on a cruise to Bermuda! Cash and carry.
The salon was now again open, but still could not shave off my mustache, much to my mother’s chagrin but my wife’s past delight, as that type of snipping can only be done in a licensed way by a barber, due to precious health concerns that existed prior to the era of the virus. Thus a good old boys network? She could at least be allowed to trim. And thus she did, prior to the ultimate botch of social distancing. In that case a man came around with a bleach bottle that was far more than could be handled by any blonde, in one hand, so what does he do with the free one? OK, get your mind out of the gutter, as this is a salon not a porno set. This newly contracted guru of how to chemically keep the virus at bay — that’s the hand with the bottle — did the unthinkable with the other and obviously should have known better than anyone, HE SHOOK THE TRAINEE STYLIST’S HAND! A voice inside my head that said don’t look back, you can never look back, silently screamed NOOO! Where is Mr. Bill when you need him. Or maybe just Eddie, and save the fair maiden.
I thought this was a hoot but still a glitch, and in the light of changing the subject matter around asked how the common good could be protected by taking the extreme lengths of cut hair that abound and can be donated to those who have little or none, when it would fall to the floor, like The Bodies Hit The Floor, and that could be literal if the virus abounds in the stray hairs. Perhaps You’ve Got Another Thing Coming, since just then stage right there was one of the many guys these days who have created a style so it could be followed, the football length beard mastered by the musician in ZZ Top of that name, then call James Hardin, and even the lead singer for Slayer of all people right before the gray caught up and they hung it up while still on top. Everyone seemed to be sporting such these days, and the ladies of the houses who might be holy will come by with a pruning sheers and say, Get Out Of My House If You Don’t Cut That Hair! And there are places she could go with that, ugg, that you don’t want to mess with.

<<We are newly open for business in the broadest sense, but that can at times exclude those ill and infirm, kids, the time challenged and nail-biters.>>

The concerns that are crucial, as we carry forth in the consummate conditions of kicking the virus to the curb, and here is a clearinghouse of the best and brightest and boldest. You can only stay as a patron for 90 minutes before it is kindly suggested that you depart, and that long trip to the bathroom will not save you. We love children, but kindly keep them at home before you come in and have your nails done, saved by a sitter who is biting the bullet and cannot partake in the same as far as the state of her nails, long getting scruffy from dealing with your Terrible Two, as in the original stay-at-home vernacular, stated with specific verbage, there were no restrictions on travel to get to some places where you would child-sit if a “nanny,” but a teen needing some “baby-sitting” dough is cut no such slack, as hey she is being proactive to get together her cash BEFORE the student loan death knell hits. Don’t Call Us Child, We’ll Call You, as if you want to order takeout at parts unknown, or at least undisclosed, you are being asked to kindly wait in the reserve seating area right inside the door, until your number is called, and that burger thus must be good. Social distancing being enforced in a gentle manner by signs of multiple variations of the famous Six-Foot, as in signs on the counter spaced about every two yards in a rounded bar-rail, (is that a contradiction in terms?), to say where you can plop yourself safely, As Perpetual And Keep The Country Clean. At Wal-Mart they right you all the way and around Six Ways From Sunday to get in just the right tack of their multiple doors, but the greeter is overtly smiley to make this bearable, or sometimes not, where luck of the virus draw kicks in or not. And then there are the signs using stick-ish figures, like you’d see on bathroom doors, spaced apart so there was no way they could hold hands, thus illustrating the point.
Decorations you can see on the dash-food-holding-area, to steer you inside for steak and such so you can order takeout, were the stock and trade of the people at Agave Kitchen and Bullpen Cantina, forming two parts of the same multi-level eatery, and showed with the cattle head that’s full-on like their food and not just the boney skull like in the Westerns … The point? Someone, and I suspect the Zoning Police, told them to Take Down Your Country Club and put the horns elsewhere. Fear not, another same-size version of that item was soon up, lower on the stick and further away from the main hub.
Wow on that first night open, a fave bartender at Starr’s was really decked out in makeup, unusual for her, hair fashioned incredibly up — and those ruby lips that would put The Eagles and Witchy Women to shame, or would they be Lipps Inc, although that dance music reference is before her time, when such tunage was first getting going. Young lovely meets Old School, (I love that phrase). Why? My idol of throwing out there a quaint reference to music lyrics, Chris Berman, was the guy who started this vehicle. I’ve tested the waters he parted by going deeper into the more obscure, as I’m sure you have noted.
Lastly, so many stores, largely in the realm of big retailers, which might make it make sense because of overall means, there are many an offering for people disabled, elderly or at-risk medically, of special shopping hours once or twice a week that are free from crowds — unless there are too many there from the disadvantaged community that the aisles have swallowed up them and any extra room. And what may such people be finding in observance of June Dairy Month, now extended into another J word(s), that being July journalism? The worship locally of Ellsworth cheese curds that abounds and is shown in such a way at Kwik-Trip with a special on both a full, near-pound package of these precious nuggets, (again mind out of the gutter), and for just a two-spot more — and that term is my word, re-enacted — you can add the butter to slather on the cheddarish curd, by cheddarish curd and keep the dairy lobby happy. And the special service, not sauce, populace time-frame served, is usually more along the line of one hour, and held in almost all cases at opening, on the days when it also can serve a business purpose for bringing in patrons at generally slow days. So everyone wins a bit, and especially the makers of Mongo-Plus-Clean-It-All products (just kidding, my wife just bought two).

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