I went to Michigan at the end of May and stayed for about 3 weeks, visiting with family and friends, watching my cousin give birth to her second daughter while I worked at mending, strengthening, and creating relationships with several people. I went solo for the first 2 weeks, while my poor husband stayed behind in Wisconsin to work. During the second week of us being in separate places, our nightly phone calls became more consistent. Steve called me one night as my grandma, my mom, my cousin and her first daughter, and I were all sitting in my grandma's living room, counting the minutes between contractions. He told me to go to a separate room because he had some interesting news to share. I got nervous, because although I play the part of a cup-half-full person, if I'm being honest, I'm generally the half-empty type. I went into my grandma's front room and coaxed the news out of my giddy husband.
"What is it you wanted to do this summer, but that we couldn't afford?" he asked as I sat, sweating on a couch, staring into my skewed reflection through a darkened window that was still covered in clear plastic, armored for the winter cold. It was the end of spring.
"Steve, I can't guess what you have to tell me with the clue you've given me. Please just spit it out."
And then, a recording from his phone, of a local radio announcer from South Africa to whom we often listen.
"The battle for the tickets is over. Stephen from Wisconsin won the battle. He's an Aussie too, so nice to pass on tickets to another resident alien. He's gonna go and see the 10,000 Lakes festival July 22 at Soo Pass Ranch."
I didn't believe that he had won the tickets. I thought it had to be another Aussie Stephen. He was tricking me, I was sure of it. I was not playing the gullible ticket this time.
Sitting at our tent a month and a half later, looking at the glitter in the sky, drinking wine and trying to comprehend the activity of the past 4 days, I couldn't remember why I doubted Steve. Although we lead a pretty good life together, it often feels like spectacular things take the hands of others, while we chase after them, trying not to lose our shoes or turn into pumpkins.
The glory of this festival was the final performance on Saturday night. Dave Matthews Band, with accompanying musician friend Tim Reynolds. Whoa.
We set out on a four hour drive on Wednesday the 22nd around 2 in the afternoon. Before leaving, we made sure we had the tickets, the camping registration, the map, and the letter we had received when the tickets were mailed to us. I vaguely remember realizing that there was only half of the letter wrapped around the tickets - a page was missing. Weird, I thought, but continued packing in my haste to leave before it got too late. We stopped for gas, to check the oil, to shop for food and beer. The beer was the most important part. We had been looking forward to this weekend away from the dry camp site that we live on, to relax, be together, and enjoy some excellent wheat flavored, hoppy beverages. And we're cheap, so we stopped at the Sam's Club on our way out of town. We wanted it to last the entire 5 days we would be gone, so we obviously went for the Sam's Club sized packages. Two cases. As we reached for them, Steve mentioned that he had a feeling we should buy it in the cans. I assured him that at a green festival such as the 10K Lakes Festival, they would rather recycle glass instead of aluminum. He reluctantly gave into my reasoning, against his better judgment, and after paying for the beer, and shopping for some quality, carb-loaded snacks, we set out for Soo Pass.
We arrived around 7 at night. As I drove into our campsite, Steve read from the second half of the letter. The second page started in the middle of a sentence that ended something like, "so you do not get your favorite beer taken away from you during the car search."
"What does that mean?" I asked. Not having the first half sent me into a bit of a panic. I had a feeling it had something to do with the glass bottles I had convinced my husband to buy.
A blond security girl met us at the gate, and promptly told us that before we could get our car tag and festival bracelets, she had to check our car for anything glass. "You mean, like beer bottles?" I asked, full of dread.
"Yep," she said. I looked at her and nearly broke down in tears. I told her that we actually had 2 cases full of glass bottled beer. She nearly cried with me. We slowly opened the door for her and popped the trunk so she could grab both boxes from our car. Oh, did I mention it was Fat Tire and Sam Adams? No Bud Light here...we went for the good stuff.
"If you guys have a plastic bottle or something, you can transfer your beer from the glass bottles and take it in with you," the security girl told us. She and the others who were working with her were all trying to give us advice of what to do to save our beer.
"Do you know where the nearest Target or Wal-Mart is?" I asked in desperation. My mind had clicked into problem-solving as I tried to imagine what would best help us get that beer into camp. I figured if we could get an igloo dispenser or some empty water cartons, we could save some of it.
"Sorry," said one of the guy security workers, "I'm not from around here."
We set out into Detroit Lakes, without a clue as to where we were headed. Our beer sat at the entrance of camp, being guarded by security, as though it were a celebrity guest at the festival. "We'll remember you," they had promised, "Just go find something to save your beer."
After driving for about 10 minutes around the lake and into town, and hearing my husband's defeated sigh and declaration of, "Kel, we just might have to count our losses," we realized that our atlas had been purchased at Wal-Mart. Inside was listed every Wal-Mart in the entire United States. This revelation hit us both at the same moment, and I watched as Steve reached for the huge book, as if searching for treasure. "There's one in Detroit Lakes," he said softly, as though Wal-Mart was a mirage, and talking too loudly might blow it away.
We found it on the left, and turned in. Decisions had to be made. What kind of containers did we want to buy. How much money did we really want to spend to save this beer? After walking the entire store about 4 times, we decided to buy a 2 gallon igloo water dispenser and four 1 gallon empty water jugs.
When we reached the campsite, we were welcomed back by the security team. Our beer was still sitting there, waiting to be demolished. I set about popping open each beer bottle with our 39 cent bottle opener, and as I passed them onto Steve, I watched as the smell drifted from the bottle in a small cloud of carbonation. I refused to think about how they would all soon become flat, and remained determined to save every last drop. We waved to the other cars as they passed through with their canned beverages, persisting through the task at hand.
It turns out that beer gets flat pretty soon after being opened. With just the two of us, and several gallons to get through, we ended up throwing out more than we drank. Which isn't so bad, as we don't really depend on the beer to give us a good time. We eventually reached a moment when we were laughing at our predicament, and at my insistent plea that we make sure that not one drop gets left behind.
Lesson learned: Steve knows what he's talking about, so Kelley, step aside.
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