Root beer
I went camping at Devil’s Lake in Wisconsin this weekend. (This meant spending 48 hours away from my bike—it was a struggle.) For me there is really only one reason to go to Wisconsin: every meal comes with a side of cheese curds. We stopped at A&W on the way up. I was determined to order some healthy food to cancel out the bad food: grilled chicken with no mayo, a side of fried curds, and a diet root beer float. That way the grilled chicken could vouch for the cheese curds when they got to my stomach: “No worries stomach, they’re with me!” I had a little trouble placing my order when I got to the float however. It was a strange counter interaction:
“I’d like a root beer float.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have diet root beer?”
“Yup.”
“Then I’d like diet root beer.”
“So you want a root beer float and a diet root beer?”
“No, I want a root beer float with diet root beer.”
“So you want a root beer float with a diet root beer on the side.”
“No, I want the root beer float with the diet root beer in it!”
I was surprised at the confusion. Apparently in Wisconsin it is not unusual to order a root beer float and a second root beer on the side.
This was just a prelude to an entire weekend of eating. We found an Amish couple at the Baraboo farmer’s market selling oatmeal chocolate-chip brownies. That night I scooped out oranges and filled them with cake mix and baked them in the coals of the fire. We used to do that at camp when I was ten, but those always turned out either under-baked because we were too impatient to wait for them or charred because we got caught up in playing Down on the Banks of the Hanky Panky or making a human knot. Now that I am 30 I am much better at making orange cakes, and these were nearly perfect except for the one that got caught under a log and had to be extracted using the campfire equivalent of the jaws of life.
“I’d like a root beer float.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have diet root beer?”
“Yup.”
“Then I’d like diet root beer.”
“So you want a root beer float and a diet root beer?”
“No, I want a root beer float with diet root beer.”
“So you want a root beer float with a diet root beer on the side.”
“No, I want the root beer float with the diet root beer in it!”
I was surprised at the confusion. Apparently in Wisconsin it is not unusual to order a root beer float and a second root beer on the side.
This was just a prelude to an entire weekend of eating. We found an Amish couple at the Baraboo farmer’s market selling oatmeal chocolate-chip brownies. That night I scooped out oranges and filled them with cake mix and baked them in the coals of the fire. We used to do that at camp when I was ten, but those always turned out either under-baked because we were too impatient to wait for them or charred because we got caught up in playing Down on the Banks of the Hanky Panky or making a human knot. Now that I am 30 I am much better at making orange cakes, and these were nearly perfect except for the one that got caught under a log and had to be extracted using the campfire equivalent of the jaws of life.
posted by ellen at 9:52 AM
1 Comments:
What, are you saying that you are now too old to play Down on the Banks of the Hanky Panky? Although now that I think about it, that and the so-called human-knot sound like one and the same game. So perhaps you are just now old enough. What kind of so-called summer camp was this, anyway???
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