Day 3 -- Madison, Wis., to Fargo, N.D.

Flat-tery gets you nowhere, except Fargo
I don’t feel like much for concerts anymore. The thing is, I haven’t even seen one recently.

It all started when I mentioned that I was headed to North Dakota for the night. That’s when Martin talked some sense into me.

“There’s culture happening here that only comes once a year,” he said. “It‘s the best weekend to be in Madison, and you’re going to Fargo?”

Good point. So I decided to stick around in Madison to see a few bands play in a festival downtown. Martin and Sam mapped me out a few spots to hit while I was there, and I bid them adieu.

I wanted to walk around the University of Wisconsin campus, but it was moving-in day, so nearly all UW students and their parents filled all parking areas, legal and illegal. Undaunted, I did a driving tour, got confused by some crazy one-way roads and headed for State Street, a cultural hotspot Sam said was a must-see.

State Street was nice, but there was again nowhere to park within a reasonable distance. Still, I saw some cool things: girls tanning on the lawn of the capitol building, the shores of Lake Manitoba, the imposing courthouse. A little weary of driving, I was very confused by some one-way roads, almost got into an accident and headed for Orton Park, where the concert was.

Luckily, I found parking this time -- but I was about an hour early for the concert and decided to grab a cup of coffee. I tried the Escape Java Joint. Decent stuff. I checked out some specialty shoppes in the area. Stoner stuff. Upon my return to Orton Park, my oasis of available parking had dried. Frustrating stuff. Making an illegal U-turn, I nearly had another accident. Scary stuff. Frazzled and ornery, I took some confusing one-way streets to the highway and drove out of town.

So it was the best weekend to be in Madison, and I was going to Fargo.

I calmed down over a bratwurst and blueberry crunch pie at Norske Nook, a little stop I knew about courtesy of Martin and Sam. I was finally even-tempered when I crossed into Minnesota and met up with Louis Anastasis, an ol’ J-school buddy. Maybe this wouldn't be such a botched day after all.

I arrived in Fargo with the sunset. Feeling revived from the good vibes of Minnesota, I decided to hit up a concert I heard about from a Fargo native I met in Essen Haus.

But then…

Long story short. Went the wrong way -- back to Minnesota. Flat tire. Lug nuts apparently put onto Kia by the Hand of God. Called AAA. Took me and the tow-truck driver combined to get the tire off. Rolled back into Fargo at 45 mph with the hazard lights on, being kept awake by Becky Rodriguez on the phone.

So if I hear about a great band playing in Regina, I think I’ll pass.

Who am I kidding? I’d still go. Karma’s got to be on my side sooner or later.

Good Eats
But at least I wasn’t hungry.

Martin grows most of his own produce in his orchard, so I feasted on fresh food for probably the only time this trip. I had an extremely juicy pear that dribbled nectar down my chin with every bite. Breakfast was eggs and some of the brightest colored peppers I’ve ever seen.

He offered me a second night in Belleville, and as I sit in a Starbucks choking down a sugary muffin, I regret declining.