Guantanamera!

Saturday turned out to be the day three of us got tired of being in Madison and ventured our way to Milwaukee. We piled in my car and away we went. The first five minutes were filled with banter, as I haven't seen Tom in a while and not much of Jeremy, either. As the conversation died down, I put on some XM dance channel and passed the Marshal exit. (Please note that Marshal is entirely populated by a Romanian Bucovina Cult or something. They are weird people.) I was fast becoming sleepy listening to the repetative electronic music and told Jeremy to change it. He fished around, stopping at the NASCAR channel to collective groans, ESPN for the Penn State Score for Tom, and finally at the 80's channel.

Things remain kind of quiet until Tom started singing the backup singer portion of some 80's song that I don't remember. It could of been on by Foreigner. This was followed by Bananarama's only self-penned U.S. hit, "Cruel Summer", and others until "Pour Some Sugar On Me" came on. I then changed it, passing the 60's channel when Jeremy heard a bit of a familiar song. He changed it back and behold it was "Guantanamera", a song I didn't know, but he knew from high-school Spanish class. This made Jeremy's whole night and we could have turned back home. Unfortunately, the music digressed from there and we were forced to turn it off at the intersection of Hawley & West Lincoln Avenue.

We picked up Steve and decided on Tres Hermanos. Steve informed us of a recent homicide in the neighborhood and told the story of how he saw some guy getting his head kicked into the pavement outside the restaurant some time. We were no longer in cushy, wimpy Madison anymore. Jeremy was excited at the mariachi band standing by the bar. By the time we sat down and ordered our drinks, the band was going from table to table, performing requests. Jeremy no sooner said "I hope they don't stop here" when I heard "Good Evening, Gentlemen!" He knew not of our reputation. The lead hombre asked for a request and Jeremy yelled out "Guantanamero!" The band responded and Jeremy would have died happy at that moment.

Not much else interesting happened after that. We went to a bar that kept blaring hair metal, another bar that was cool, but had the worst juke box, and another before we called it a night. I did manage to make a wrong turn at Albuquerque, circled Miller Park, drop off Steve, get lost again, then head back home. It's good to get away from this town sometimes.