I woke up in Josh’s apartment, had some cereal, and watched
“The Tick” and “Spiderman.”  They were both reruns.  It was the
Tick Vs. Mr. Mental, the first one I had seen.

I wanted to take a shower, but apparently the hot water heater
had exploded in the night, so there was nothing but ice water.  I
looked upon this as a good thing, as I would have to get used to
not taking showers for the rest of the week.

I called up Jeff to see if we were going to get together and
do something.  I told him I wanted to check out a few stores
before I headed back to Kennelworth where he lived.  Josh and I
headed out to the city on a marvelous sunny day.

F.A.O. Schwartz was our first stop.  It was a giant department
store-sized toy store.  The place was a candy-coated Willy Wonka
Disney cartoon theme park ride come to life.  I was frightened.
Giant teddy bears and smiling clocks loomed everywhere.  And
toys.  Toys all around me.  I played with a few things before I
started to feel claustrophobic.  Then we left.

A new Borders Books and Music had opened up on a corner.  Four
stories of books, magazines, CDs and computer software.  I
browsed through every floor and didn’t buy a single thing.  The
part of my conscience that presides over consumer goods has
Ryan’s voice.  “You don’t need that,” it kept saying.  “When will
you have time to read that?” or “You already have one of those.”

After returning to Josh’s, I finished most of my pizza and
bade him farewell, after shelling out $17.00 for overnight
parking.  In some cities, that would buy me a motel room.  I just
paid $17.00 so my car could have a good night’s rest.  It turned
out that that would be the last rest it would have in some time.

Jeff and Alex weren’t home when I got to his house.  I sat in
his living room, reading, until they returned.  Then we all went
out to Best Buy after stopping at the tobacconist so Jeff could
buy some cloves.  I had never been to Best Buy before.  Their
prices were ridiculously low.  We waited forever for Alex to
figure out what CDs he wanted to buy.

We returned to Jeff’s and when it became apparent that nothing
interesting was going to happen in the immediate future, I
decided it was time to move on.  My plan was to go to Minnesota
and find wolves.  I hugged them goodbye and took off on route 94
west.

This is where my journey began.

I hit Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the early evening.  As I drove
through I thought, “Hey, this is where they invented beer!”
Maybe I would visit a brewery.  But I reconsidered when I
realized that it would be akin to a DePauw fraternity’s concept
of nirvana.  So I drove on through.

All along the way I had been seeing billboards for the
“Hochunk Casino.”  Hmmm, that sounded interesting.  I had never
been in a casino before.  I stood outside one in Atlantic City,
but I wasn’t old enough at the time to go in.  The casino was in
Minnesota, a few miles off the interstate.

The Hochunk Casino was about the size of a small airport.  I
had to park about a half mile away (or so it seemed).  You might
have thought you were parking at King’s Island or something.  I
entered through the glass doors into a wash of bright flashing
lights.  The floor was thick with people and tight lanes of slot
machines.

The sensation was like being at an amusement park, trying to
decide what to ride first.  There were different styles of slot
machines, but they all operated on the same principle: ya gotta
line up dese three little pictures.  The more you bet, the more
you could win.  Of course.

I had vowed that if I ever went to a casino, the money I spent
there would come from one pocket and the money I won would go in
another and never the two should meet.  I got a bunch of quarters
and sat down in front of one of the devices.  It was mind-
bogglingly simple, reminding me of the computerized versions I
had on my computer.  I almost forgot I was playing for real
money.  I lost most of the time, but got a weird Pavlovian thrill
when the bells and whistles went off.  My mind started to play
games with me.  It claimed to see some kind of pattern forming
and if I just kept playing, mathematical statistics would
overcome luck and force the machine to spit out a mountain of
quarters.  I looked at the person next to me.  Their bin was
brimming with silver.  If this mere housewife could win a pile,
then why couldn’t I?

Fifteen dollars later I was headed for the exit.  I had bet
everything from both pockets.  The potential for disaster waited
in the wings like some mad harpy.  I escaped while my reason
still had both hands on the oars.

Getting in my car, I left the Hochunk Casino behind and set
out to find a place to sleep.  I had this idea that I could sneak
into one of the nearby campgrounds.  Unfortunately, they were
closed at this time of year.   So I returned to the interstate in
search of some safe spot to stop for the night.

I pulled off again near the towns of Millston and Hixton (I’m
not joking).  I don’t know if I was in one or the other.
Whichever it was, the town comprised of a gas station and a few
houses.  I crept slowly along, looking for a spot to stow away
for the night.  I made one turn off the road and fond myself on a
winding unlit path.  Not good, I thought.  Maybe I ought to get
back on the interstate and find some nice, well-lit parking lot.
Before I could act on this sage advice offered up by my self-
preservation system, Discordia, that reality-shredding goddess of
chaos, capered onto the scene and lobbed a bad luck grenade in
the form of a police car, lights flashing red and white.
Hmmm, was all I could think.

What follows is Drey’s Police Encounter #1.

The officer, a weasel-looking guy with glasses and a mustache
approached my car and shined his flashlight around inside.  I had
my license ready for him.
“You seem a bit agitated,” he said.
“I’m, uh, lost…”
“Oh, you’re LOST, eh?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see that stop sign back there?”
“No.”  I had no idea what he was talking about.
“You DIDN’T see that stop sign back there?”
“No, look, I wasn’t trying to…”
“You didn’t see me sitting right by the stop sign?”
“Ah, no, I didn’t see the sign; I guess I wasn’t paying
attention…”
“You smoke pot?”
“No,” I said.
“Oh, you DON’T do you?”
He shined his light at my crotch where I had placed my CD
player.
“What’s that?  A CD player?” he inquired.
“Yes.”
“What’s it plugged into?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s a CD player, isn’t it?  It’s got to be plugged
into something.”
“I, ah, have it wired into the cassette deck…”
“What? Where’s the headphones?”
“I don’t need headphones with this.”  I couldn’t believe this
guy.
“Oh, something NEW, eh?  Well, why don’t you open it up for
me?”
I opened the CD player, revealing a CD.
“It’s a CD,” I observed.
“Okay,” he couldn’t get me there.  “What’s in that bag?  Why
don’t you open that bag and show me what’s in there.” He pointed
to my black school backpack.
“It’s my bookbag,” I explained, opening it.  “Here’s a book.
And a folder.  Look, here’s another book.  What do you want to
see?”  I was getting sarcastic.
“What are you looking for down here?”
“Well, I thought there was a town or something here, but
obviously there isn’t, so I think I’ll probably get back on the
express way.”
“Uh-huh.  Wait just a minute.”  He returned to his car to run
what I assumes were routine checks on my license.  He returned
after a few minutes with another odd question.
“Is that the only jacket you have?  Were you wearing another
jacket before?”  I was wearing my black trenchcoat like I always
do and had brought no other coat with me.
“This is the only coat I have.”
“Well, we just had some guy hold up a store down here, so
we’ve been looking for him.”
Ah, the truth comes out.
“Well, I didn’t steal anything…”
“Why don’t you move some of that stuff around in the back
seat.  Show me what you have back there.”  He wasn’t finished.
I moved my pillow to reveal my CD collection.
“Why look, it’s my CD collection. What do want to see?!”
“All right,” he seemed satisfied with that.  He gave me
directions back to the interstate and warned me that “Those stop
signs mean STOP!”

As I maneuvered back to the highway, I passed the intersection
where I had supposedly run the stop sign.  On the left hand side
of the road was a post about a foot tall.  On the post was a stop
sign no wider than my hand. It was apparently for snowmobiles.
I figured that I couldn’t stop anywhere within fifty miles of
Hixton since the cops were probably still looking for this guy.
I ended up stopping at a 24-hour restaurant and napping for a
bit.  Then I kept driving.

I decided to visit the Mall of America before seeking out the
wolves.  Jeff’s mom had told me about it. It is literally the
biggest mall in the country.  She might as well have said, “Hey,
Drey, I know where there’s a magic door that leads to Narnia.”

As I drove, it began to snow.  It was still winter in
Minnesota.  I made it to Bloomington, where the mall was and
parked right in front of it.  To me this was like camping out in
front of the gates to Disney World the night before it opens.  I
crawled into the back seat and fell asleep.