A prominent law enforcement officer, who has passed on, had encountered an icon of his trade in one of The Greatest cafe moments in local lore:

— A recent tidbit surfaced that Muhammad Ali, the fantastic fighter who recently died, actually gave an autograph to the also passed on, then-local-deputy who later became a longtime sheriff, Paul Burch, who wasn’t sure who the boxer was when first seeing him at a St. Croix County cafe, but then approached him anyway. Ali was The Greatest long before the ultimate fighting craze took over at places like Buffalo Wild Wings. But as far as “heavyweights,” I’ll instead go with someone also recently deceased who was met via other exploits in the “squared circle,” indeed in the can and towering above it. That’s where a local bar stalwart met the late Dusty Rhodes, one of the best Old School pro wrestlers, albeit at the bar urinal the next stall over. That one with the less looming presence next went on to rub elbows with guitarist Joe Walsh, at a picnic and then at a second location that had no relationship. (It wasn’t the mansion of which the former Eagle forgot the price. To continue the theme, maybe that’s why Mojo Nixon lyrically called for the death, also, of one of that band’s members).
— In the same vein of people continuing to make their mark although now dead, a relative was in part a star of the show at the recent Willow River Cemetery Walk. His family’s grave area was the site of us reading a seven page monologue about their former doings locally. The connection with nightlife? That person was Lew Reid Micklesen the linguist, not Lou Reed the singer, although both icons deal with language. Actors portraying members of the period were asked to dress the part, formally, despite the 90 degree heat, even if that meant draping your suit-jacket over a chair and causing an observer to say it seemed to be missing its head. (And it’s true that dead men don’t wear plaid).
— And then there’s another synergy, North Hudson style. The sign at Season’s Tavern said Yummy in my Tummy and on the same main drag a mile up there is the aforementioned, Blue Yummy special of Miller Lite. One good beer deserves another.
— Speaking of NH, I’ll bet they wish this one-way wasn’t the only way. Wisconsin Street West in North Hudson has been temporarily made into a one-lane street taking you toward the Main Drag. I’d venture a guess that the people at the Mallalieu Inn, and possibly Starr’s Bar, which need the street to allow patrons access using the primary route, can’t wait for that “temporarily” to end. Of course there is the option on a long detour that first takes you to the other end of the village … At least the local planners appear to have made a decision to conduct all their road work in one fell swoop, git ‘er done and be done with it, meaning no more detours.
— Of course all this road construction means that fed up drivers will take liberties. One was the late-night guy (I’m assuming) who happened onto Second Street where it was closed off, than got back onto the area of the street that was open to traffic by going about a yard onto the curb to get around a barricade. If it would have been further into that grassy yard, he might have nicked a street sign. And then at the parking area in front of the Smilin’ Moose, where a few feet up the street was torn-up and guarded by sawhorses leaning toward the centerline, some bikers when parking used that as a license to ebb into the portion of street where traffic would normally flow. But no worries, it doesn’t now.
— A message on the marquee at the Agave Kitchen a couple of weeks ago proved prophetic, in a way that probably wasn’t anticipated. It read: “Down town Hudson has what you love.” That obviously doesn’t include road rehab. A subsequent Agave message, referring to the horrible massacre in Orlando, was more exacting: “There is no honor,” it read, in taking the lives of the innocent.
— Haven’t mentioned Woody’s in Bayport for awhile. It was there that on a slow sports TV night, patrons made a request to switch the tube to women’s softball, the ladies of which were putting on a modeling show, possibly during the Seventh Inning Stretch. The bartender, who knows a thing or two about this via her longtime work at Alary’s in St. Paul, where the evening uniform was for a long time basically a bikini, gave a big buildup to the player’s makeup, specifically long lashes.
— A friend of a friend was back dancing at Dick’s Bar and Grill, doing as bump and grind. That makes my recall a time during the cold of winter when she dragged by onto the dance floor and showed my in intricate detail how I could be a better dancer, from how not to shuffle my feet, to just how to circularly gyrate my midsection, and how not to do it. I didn’t know this Dancin’ Fool needed that much help.

— And maybe some of the summer of love for Prince has run its course. At Guv’s Place in North Hudson, the bartender suggested a “happy song,” unlike the then-playing Toxicity by System of a Down (again, death imagery). So, someone else suggested a Prince tune, to which the response was that he’s been overplayed — anything but that. Spin some country instead. And that’s happy, came the retort? The musical answer came up next: Humble and Kind by Tim McGraw.

These days (and nights), finding a way to walk over to that eligible person at the bar is not the only rough territory you’ll have to cover. There are many streets that get you around in the evening that are very hard to negotiate because of road construction, meaning the endless string of red lights you’ll encounter on Carmichael Road are not the only traffic problem when getting around, such as from nightclubs on The Hill to the ones downtown. (Concerning Carmichael, ever heard of placing a flashing yellow light at places where no one is moving from any direction late at night?)
More-over, I’m talking about the soon to become infamous road work being done on Vine Street. (A work zone sign says “closed daily.” Well that affects night travel, too). The latest is that despite the fact that there are currently no turn lanes at Vine and Second and it’s a straight-shot, you still have to sit through the red-then-green situation. (Again to invoke the possibility of a flashing yellow, I guess it’s too much bother to switch things up for a few weeks). Try to make it to The Village Inn or Kozy Korner in North Hudson for last call with the current constraint. They just might greet you as they’re locking the bar door.
Along that route, there have been the occasional downed pylons pushed toward the other lane, as I’m assuming bleary eyed drivers were pinched too tightly by lane changes. And if you are parked along Locust Street going east from the Smilin’ Moose, and try to get through at Third and Vine, guess what, that’s been shut down, too. Now we hear the news that as of May 31, the intersection at Vine and Second will be closed, too. Just hope there won’t be a speed trap set up where the detour takes you.
And relatedly, for a longer time now, if you’re swinging through First Street from Dick’s to later go east to the intersection by Dairy Queen, you’ll note that even the late-night signal going that direction can make you wait up until a few minutes. Maybe that’s why for a while now, more party limos than usual have been showing up in North Hudson, and more recently even up on The Hill.

Local sports bar owners weren’t daft when planning draft parties, as the subsequent verbal jousting shows:
— The annual draft day parties, featuring long periods of commentator small talk interrupted by the excitement of an actual pick, and promoted by some local sports bars seem to have made a return on their investment. And the ultimate example might be the guy in the Katzenmoyer jersey.
A guy sporting that somewhat obscure New England Patriot jersey, No. 59, was verbally jousting with a bunch of Viking backers on the night after they made their much celebrated wide receiver pick. The action at that point, seen at Buffalo Wild Wings, was more along the bar rail than it was on any playing field or draft podium. Then one of the Viking fans made reference to a supermodel while looking toward No. 59. I really doubt it, but he could have been referring to a certain famous quarterback’s supermodel squeeze. Around that same time on sports news TV was the announcement that there’d be special coverage of the eternal saga that is Deflategate, “Appeal of the Appeal of the Appeal. The Tom Brady Story, a Football Life.” Just kidding.
But seriously, the draft viewership at most sports bars was heavy during that first round, and some servers — mostly female — said that they couldn’t relate to all the hype, which became a topic in itself, but that they appreciated the business. Attendance peaked during the first couple of rounds, depending on if your favorite team was Minnesota or Green Bay, and what the selection meant to your squad — and there were plenty of commentators telling you what you should think.
The Katzenmoyer Syndrome also played out early on draft day among people looking for an escape from what seemed to be the drudgery of their everyday work lives. A convenience store clerk, who I don’t recall ever having met, asking me with interest what I’d be doing for the “main event,” before even taking my money. He made small talk at length, and didn’t let it go very easily, about my venue of choice to watch it (didn’t have a particular one) and what I thought might be the result (didn’t have an opinion).
— More from my local vault on Prince: The flower girl at the recently deceased superstar’s wedding was a close relative of a local woman, who says she got the little girl ready downstairs but was unable to then take in the blissful proceedings up above.

All around town, they indeed partied like its 1999, and I think Prince was looking down proudly:

— A regular at Green Mill put it this way: Prince’s guitar work was second only to Eric Clapton. (But both had a “Cream” connection, as far as names).
— Early on Saturday night, Prince songs filled the local jukeboxes — to the point that some said they tired of it and one group of people even debated whether to play them for the length of two typical verses — but as the hours moved past midnight, the choices were down to about every-other-song. That didn’t stop one deejay from making a dedication: “Here’s to my man Prince.”
— The One-Man-Band, Jeff Loven, performed a tribute, including doing Purple Rain by request for a second time as his encore, and partway through said to the bartender it maybe wasn’t worthy, to which he got a prolonged thumbs up of outright approval.
— Even as late as Wednesday night, peoples’ choices on jukeboxes were showing their true colors, from the first word listed. Noteworthy were Raspberry Beret at Dick’s Bar and Grill, then Purple Rain at the Village Inn. The latter was done by Phish and featured a near-yodel for the last minute of the song.
— There is a new ride in town, and it’s even more provocatively named. The second annual Unfrost Your Tits motorcycle rally, much like the longtime Unfrost Your Nuts run, faced cold and rainy weather recently, to the point where you’d think it would digress to a wet T-shirt contest with people oh so happy to see each other at chest-high. In fact, the event that was heavy on the North Hudson end of things, had listed as one of its stops Starr’s Bar, weather and time permitting.
— The folks at Smokedale tobacco extended their infamous 4-20 sale through the following Friday, which was April 22. However, and this shouldn’t come as a big surprise, the event although finished was still was being advertised on Twin Cities rock radio early Saturday morning. Guess they weren’t napping.
— Its been pointed out that due to this year’s prom season, sexy is back in, especially when it comes to low-cut backs. This could be seen at the Smilin’ Moose where one woman had nary a cloth on her bare back, except for a couple of spaghetti straps way up high. Later, across town at Pudge’s Bar, and playing out in a similar way all around, a prom mom showed it in a different way, with carefully braided hair stacked way up high. But back to the Moose, where a bachlorette party celebrated in a unique and perhaps premature way, by forming a long reception line to greet people coming in after their IDs were checked.
— Speaking of fashionable dress, the beach party at Dick’s Bar and Grill showcased lots of flowers in the hair, tiara-type bands in the hair, and lots of hats worn by both men and women. As my friend Tom said, the season of sarongs.
— The chalk marking on the floor at Dick’s said “Happy Birthday Turtle.” And just who, might I ask, is Turtle, I posed the question to the bartender. Let’s just say I told him he was “slow” in his response, to which he added, “I’ll bet you were waiting for an hour to pull that one out.” Well, maybe …
— Singer songwriter Garret, a Hudson fixture, is one who has been playing two Sundays a month at The Onion restaurant in Minnesota starting in the afternoon, with all the proceeds going the the financially strapped music program at the Middle School in Hastings for new instruments.

With Wisconsin polls now closed, should we take a poll on Donald’s hair, or is that too hair-raising (much like the rest of this hairy election):
— Maybe this is under the heading of Rock The Vote, in a fashion sense. One woman in North Hudson hit the polls decked out in high-heeled black boots, and tight black leggings with a wide white stripe up the front. Could she be sending a dark message in reaction to the candidates these days? And with her hot fashion sense, and long dark locks, is she trumping their bad hairdos?
— Speaking of that, a Trump Backer who rides a motorcycle displayed a placard not on his lawn, but on top of the handlebars, as the cycle was parked on Main Street just before bar time. Did I say Main Street and Trump in the same sentence?
— Switching gears to baseball’s opening day, Kozy Korner in North Hudson had a message on the marquee that advertised hot dogs and brats for the opener, not to mention four free Brewer tickets. Unfortunately, the Brewers got blown out, and hopefully the winner of those tickets will get to see a better performance. The message was still up last Wednesday, as if to provide encouragement to the Brew Crew and their backers who on that Monday opener were crying in their beer. And then as far as the Twins …
Across the street, at another sports bar, there has been a sign at the Village Inn’s patio that welcomes backers of the Packers, Badgers, Bucks and the Brew. Only in Wisconsin would you find such shorthand.
— Back to politics, bartender Sue at The Village said that in a way that’s been totally atypical in her long tenure, election day attendance was way down at the bar. I guess that with the huge voter turnout, they just hung around the polls. You’d think they’d want to drink instead.
— But as far as that vote, I personally back the Pizza Party, as shown by its very unofficial nominee, the Pizza King himself, Rich Raley. Despite the recent divisions in our country about politics, I think will all can agree on a well-cut pepperoni. And that’s with extra cheese — and not so cheesy as Donald Trump and his hairdo.
— And as far as name recognition, combining both local and national, there are presidential candidates Rand Paul, (much like the same-amount-of-letters-in-the-first-and-last-name Tall Paul, a bassist for the former local band Deviant Distraction), and Martin O’Malley, (the surnames of both the local alderman who was not too much in favor of rock concerts in the Lakefront Park band shell and their noise, and of a longtime bartender and now manager at Buffalo Wild Wings). At least in the Hudson area, the locals are less obscure than the candidates.
— And of course, there’s the hair. I told the bartender at Green Mill that her hair was much more presidential than that of the Donald, after a fellow patron had praised her locks. What did so think of such a comparison? “Ooh, no, no.” But like the aforementioned pizza, I think we all can agree to stump about Mandy’s mane.
— Across the street, a lawyer from Dublin wanted to talk U.S. politics, and its obvious from body language that the way its done their is different. Voting came up and the bartender said that like many servers who border hop between the two states as far as residence vs. workplace, it was difficult to find time and driving ability to vote. She still managed to do so before her shift, but said the long lines in Woodbury added to her time bind.
— Across town, the Vine Street reconstruction project may have an effect on night travel — as I’ve been told there is a good party or two to be had when going eastward on that road — but there are other ways to head out on the highway that also are chilled, (or are they?) Specifically when the big sign that says “road closed ahead” is turned at 90 degrees during the evening, it might make you think that historic Third Street, whose residents are way too hoidy toidy to rock, is the one shut down.
— And speaking of degrees, at least on some very warm nights, the guys at the cigar store downtown are back into sitting outside their establishment late at night and having a puff, while listening to the music from the Smilin’ Moose bounce off the building facade on the other side of Second Street and bounce their way. And just of late, the interior of the store has been getting a big makeover, with workers going at it well into the evening, but cutting it off just after midnight — by coincidence about when The Moose lifts their cover on Friday nights. And two doors down, on the corner, a coffee shop is going in where the yogurt shop was. What coffee shop, you ask? The cuthead on a photo in the local paper gives it away. It reads simply: “Almost Dunn.”

Among the new and headlining acts at the River Falls Roots and Bluegrass Festival this weekend, are some that play jamgrass and folkgrass and skirt raisin’ music and even use a washboard. (For complete times and locations see this web site’s Picks of the Week department).
— Friday night, Tin Can Gin is fast-paced and upbeat and from Duluth where they recorded at the noted Sacred Heart studio, then Kind Country is an eight-member “jamgrass” and folk group, and then Dead Horses is a group of young acoustic and “folkgrass” players.
— Saturday afternoon, Singleton Street plays gospel that includes oldtime and also Celtic and Americana, then it’s the Middle Spunk Creek Boys that have been around for 40-plus years and got their start in the same venue as Leo Kottke, then its King Wilkies Dream that was named after a fiddle tune and also incorporates swing and tin pan alley and old time and a bit of pop.
— Saturday night, its Black River Revue which is also from Duluth and Superior and throws in a washboard with their bluegrass, then its Art Stevenson and High Water that’s the best-known on the bluegrass Midwest circuit since 1993, and then Them Coulee Boys with their skirt raisin’ rock and punk and jam music.
— Sunday morning, Hand Picked Bluegrass that’s a high-energy acoustic trio from Tomahawk.

The Easter holiday held sway, but the nightlife still suffered no strife:
— The humorous ads for Hill City Church, saying they take the message of Jesus seriously, (and not so much themselves), placed in local bar restrooms have been attracting attention. Especially of late, when they threw their hat in the ring as far as attracting new members, for Holy Week. As they said, “Come for the story, stay for the celebration!” Kind of the reason you went to the bar in the first place!
— Bartender Sue and a Village Inn patron were talking at the bar late at night, and late in the week, and Holy Thursday church services were referenced as effecting a mutual friend’s schedule and ability to come in for a drink. The person’s Catholic vs. Lutheran persuasion came up as a factor. Maybe better to be a Jehovah’s Witness if you want a whiskey, or a Buddhist if you want a bourbon! (Or maybe not).
— Urban Olive and Vine posted a sign saying they would move beyond their typical weekend acoustic music and bring their home to yours, and cater Easter dinner and be a “secret chef,” letting you focus on other things, like the relatives. They’d bring the bunny and make it a honey of a deal
— Former Pepper Fest King Ron and I discussed the merits of Stairway to Heaven while at the Village Inn recently, and looking forward, said we should revisit it at his ultimate man cave, (much more than a garage). A similar set of song-lovers from Cherry Circle at one point had gone over to Guv’s Place and listened to guitar player/singer Kyle Kohila. One of the close-knit group was Michele, who tragically lost her husband in a summer plane crash, an event that unfortunately was revived in the media lately. A favorite song that was requested, although not exactly Kyle’s forte, was Don’t Stop Believin’ by Journey. One of the group of friends persisted, and although Kyle initially was coy about knowing any Journey, he reportedly soon launched into a spirited version of the song.
— Brandon, the deejay at Dick’s, said on the night before Easter that he was taking some poetic, or should I say musical license, because the number of dancers was slim, (they waited until the next night to turn out in droves). So, said the former frontman for rockers Deviant Distraction, there would be much less of the usual hip-hop and rather six minutes of Tool, not to mention Motley Crue and AC/DC. Which brings to mind what I saw as an error on my car radio what-song-is-playing readout, “AC?DC.” No “Slash” here, but was there ever any question? Well, in a way, because if your from the former GNR, you’d have to be the lead singer, Axl Rose, to go on tour with AC/DC, in a gig that was just announced.
— A bartender trainee in North Hudson headed south to take in the boys hockey state tournament, and while still a Hudson High School senior, and girls hockey player, had a great time — like everyone does, including myself in days as a sports editor, as they don’t call it March Madness for nothing. (As an aside, I can only remember one other girl who, because of turning 18 early, was pouring drinks downtown while at the same time pouring through the books for her high school finals). This one plays as a defender, and wants to do the same at UW-Stout next year; she’d considered Iowa, but that’s too far away, (even Madison is closer).
— Last year around this time, tutus like those worn by a fairy were sported by several downtown patrons, and fittingly, a wand was left a short distance away on the sidewalk, the concrete of which was also sporting a sort-of disemboweled billiard ball. Did it get that way by any kind of magic trick? And both last year and this, detached sprigs of holly could also be seen dressing up the sidewalk just down the way.

Aren’t we glad that Super Tuesday, like Leap Year, only occurs once every four years? In the other three years, you might even get someone to reach out with that phone call? But St. Patrick’s Day, by comparison, is omnipresent.
— Politics or pizza? A Tuesday night patron at Green Mill said that she was going to call her father earlier, “but the caucuses just got too crazy.” (Just maybe that’s if they were talking about all the political things related to Green Cards, and that’s not to be confused with the grill and bar’s email gift club). Despite the hubbub, it obviously didn’t keep her from finding time to border-hop on Super Tuesday, and try out a stellar establishment at night — after trying to be anti-establishment all day?
— Is this a four-for-one? Some local places on Feb. 29 announced a Leap Year special for items such as a slice (of pizza) and a salad that occurs only, well, once every four years. And it wasn’t required to have a table for four.

— A visiting friend named Mark is a member of a fast-becoming-prominent Irish song circle in Milwaukee. I don’t know that much Irish music, but I asked him if he knew “Whiskey in the Jar-O,” (the only reason I am familiar with it is that it was covered by Metallica, often performed as a cover locally, and is friend Dan’s by-far-and-away favorite Metallica song). Mark replied that he knew the song well, and that it also was covered by another Irish rock band, Thin Lizzy, although both cover songs are among the lighter ones played by those particular groups.
— Only Rich, the flamboyant Pizza King himself, can get away with singing the bawdy backup lyrics to the song by GNR that goes “I used to love her, but I had to kill her.” (Don’t get too upset, the song is about having to euthanize a female dog). Or so I thought only The Rich Man could pull it off.
Jeff “One Man Band” Loven surprised me the other Sunday by asking that I sing the backup vocals in the absence of Rich, who has reprised the role for years. So, like Rich and his improvisation, I just had to put my own punny stamp on it … “She drove me nuts. That the squirrel had buried right in my backyard.”
To which all the while, my wingman Tom did his swaying with imaginary microphone, dead-on Axl Rose doo-rag impersonation of that same singer. Maybe he was drinking that beer being hawked on a sign behind him, fittingly called Fat Squirrel.
And from a while back, one more Rich story: He is also known for his tongue-in-cheek, sign language treatment given to a popular Steve Miller Band song while Jeff sings and says this one is for the hearing impaired. One night a somewhat older gentleman thought the music was too loud and put cotton balls in his ears, thus becoming one of the beneficiaries.
— The other night, I talked to the bartender who helped blow the whistle on those awful Minnesotans who tried to illegally export our special Badger State, Spotted Cow beer. On this particular night it was the Bacardi booze in question, as her thusly named shirt was just low-cut enough to obscure the top of the letter “a” and make it look like Bacurdi. As in cheese curds? Or am I having a cow over this?
— A local bartender was in a blues-bordering-on jazz band, now in hiatus, that was his full time gig for the first half of the current as-far-as-it-has-played-out millennium. They have snaked their way all the way down to New Orleans, playing various venues in-between, including a recurring engagement at a prominent juke-joint festival. No stranger to music, his uncle was in a band that opened for Creedence Clearwater Revival, among others. A newly surfaced fan asked if he could get a copy of one of their old vinyl recordings, but was told that these days, such a Gold LP would run for about $500 on Ebay, the nephew said.
— This is a tale of throwing both darts and dice. The bartender at Guv’s Place in North Hudson took a few moments out to do something you’d only be able to at a place such as this, which specializes in tournaments of the type. Upon the invitation of a patron, she tossed a couple of darts from standing behind the bar rail and even came close to hitting a triple. But there were other things also on her mind, like the next evening. Since she hadn’t had a night off in a long time, she was really looking forward to crossing the highway the next day and participating in the high-profile and potentially lucrative Casino Night at the Village Inn.
— A local suppertime stop of the History Happy Hour at Dick’s Bar and Grill was attended by about 60 people, who learned about Wisconsin’s dozens of brews and, I’m guessing, designed hundreds of new beer labels as a related activity, before loosing count. Well into the evening, the crowd that lingered was getting a bit tipsy — like the one at the chili contest a few days later — which in both cases had it serve as a happy hour of historic proportions.
— One more punny reference about the Grammys/Oscars made at Dick’s, where a crowd had gathered to watch the academy awards and cheer on Leo Dicaprio, to a favorite bartender into the Old School metal. I asked him, with tongue in cheek, if his fave Slayer had gotten the lifetime achievement award? We then shared info about the idea that Pantera had actually gotten one of the statues that night. What that actually was about, the two of us concurred, was an indie movie about a regular guy who lived out his fantasy and started drumming to the songs of, well, Pantera. Which brings me to the woman I’d met there a few nights back who was a deejay for five years in Red Wing and raised some hackles by often finishing off the night with a Pantera standard. She was now living in Hudson and was looking for a local club that could be a new haunt “where she could make this world my own.” As for any rock star status, she said that deejaying had just been a job, like any other.
— At Agave Kitchen, the second story marquee during the middle of a week read “Wednesday spelling test,” but all the letters were posted backwards. How did they do that?

Put the beads together and “I got my first real six-string, where they put the five and dime …”

— While Fat Tuesday was apparently slim on partiers, at both Dick’s Bar and Grill and The Village Inn in North Hudson there were three long strings of beads each hanging from the ceiling near the cash register, (possibly as encouragement for God knows what?) Hey, that might make the bartenders ring the nearby tip bell, maybe even three times!
— Reports from the trenches, literally, concerning the first major snowstorm, which wouldn’t you know it hit during the bar hours of a weekend. The co-workers of one bartender — who was to be cut soon since some places in the various spread-out sectors of the city closed early because of the storm — checked on her buried car from the warmth and safety of a front window, and their gaze was prolonged. I said: “Do you have a car, or is it an igloo?” What’s the difference? “Your igloo doesn’t do 80 in a 70 mph zone.” She nodded like there was some credence to my joke.
— At Buffalo Wild Wings, a handful of patrons said they were staying at one of the nearby motels, but didn’t know at the moment which one or where it was. I guess a blizzard will do that to you.
— A last stop was made at Wal-Mart to pick up a few things in case we got snowed in. I asked the clerk to help me find a particular kind of bandage. The varieties on the shelf offered to meet every conceivable need. “But do they shovel your walk?” And can they provide help if you nick your finger while doing so? Or if you bump into the plow that was pushing back into place one of those long metal recepticles for carts?
— Officials with the Hudson Hot Air Affair said that it’s hard to gauge attendance numbers since no admission is charged, but they could point to a line forming for moonglow spectators on Saturday night. The experience with balloon flights actually going up again was iffy, but since pilots stayed mostly on the ground, they could chat there with onlookers, so that was a plus anyway, it was said. The uncertainty with the weather is one reason that organizers have added all the other accompanying events, such as several music acts that may have helped save the day (or night). Despite weather, the four painted vintage balloons featuring artist Charlie Markert had a major presence, organizers said.
— A man was seen between balloon flights wearing only a black T-shirt, so one would think he was a tourist from warmer climes who did not know how cold it can get here. He was flanked by people carrying shopping bags, and they appeared to be windowshopping from store to store down Locust Street, not just getting in a car to drive back in warmth to the Cities. However, one wore a shirt saying Gooseberry Falls, which is on the North Shore of Lake Superior, so maybe that explains the style of dress. The trend carried over, as at the Smilin’ Moose in at night there were people standing outside waiting to get in with similar scant attire.
— So, there weren’t many jackets to be found? Apparently no drones, either, as these craft were forbidden by Hot Air Affair signage. Don’t want to compete with the balloons for air time.

The late-night weather is enough to curl your hair, or let your hair down and go curling:
— A man from somewhere in Wisconsin, but really didn’t known the lay of the land, said that it was too cold here, even though it was in the ’40s. So he said he’d go clubbing in Milwaukee instead. He must really be depending on the lake effect to have it be much different there.
Weather isn’t the only source of geographical confusion. One patron, after being at a bar in Ellsworth, said this when later trekking northwest to Coach’s in River Falls: “I’d also done this (drink) when I was in Wisconsin.” Usually there has to be some involvement with Minnesota to produce such a miscue.
— This winter weather brings to mind a proposal from last winter, by an employee of Dick’s Bar and Grill, about starting an in-house curling league. Such a league would probably not have too many members; hey after all, this isn’t hockey. A saving grace to the suggestion is the bars at Dick’s are almost the length of the curling route, but rather than being on ice, they are brown-red wood.
— Something that was on ice, at least for a few cold days, way a snowman not far from Kozy Korner in North Hudson who looked a lot like the frigid Frosty from folklore, right down to the positioning of several pieces of coal. When temps got less cold, and melting occurred, this snowman retained his look like Frosty as that character from the children’s show moved through those stages. Must have had too much hot pizza from Kozy. Also seen a hop, skip and jump away from Kozy has been the local version of a midnight rider, a tree stump made into a horse’s body that looked ready for someone to hop on, because of its leather casings and tether.
— How soon will it be before the gong is also gone? Patrons and workers alike at Johnnie’s Bar in River Falls noted that the longtime classic clock was in for repair, but that they still kept looking its way for the time, from force of habit. In its place is a gong the size of a hubcap. The old clock had a peg that detached and needed to be fixed, but I don’t think that could be an excuse for people not realizing its bar-closing time. One of the patrons, after looking over that way a second time, noted that someone had been in earlier who tended bar there 50-plus years ago. How time flies!
— The Arby’s on The Hill has a sign that might give you the impression its become a bar taking the proprietor’s name, at least the way the first three neon letters are blacked out. That means the sign now calls the business ‘Ys. That’s not a far cry from a license plate in the drive through, “I IV III.”
— A recent death in the rock world, that of Glenn Frye of the Eagles, was accidentally underscored in a reference by a local band leader in an interview for this blog a few days before. Steve, who heads up The Strangers, who often play the Willow River Saloon in Burkhardt, said the Eagles’ song Desparado was once very effectively done off the cuff by one of the local players, who was henceforth no Stranger to its instrumental.