On Wisconsin.

Being a semi-celebrity at a Rotary district conference is kind of humbling.

Dropping the average age of all the attendees to, say, 35 or so is even more humbling. Or weird. Even the Rotarians themselves ask me "What are you doing here."

I wish I had an answer. One that made sense on this brisk Friday night, three Spotted Cows and an Oberon later.

I wish this was a true vacation, one where I could explore the wonderful city of Madison on my own terms. Instead, I'm forced to study State St. on a limited time budged while the rest of my time is spent in breakout sessions and plenary speeches.

...at least I have Adrian alumni to keep me busy as I bar-hop solo.

Tomorrow I think I'm skipping one of the morning speeches to (a) sleep in and (b) enjoy the farmer's market on the steps of the capital building not more than a block away. I've earned it. I'm the youngest bastard here, and I'm going to hump it for all it's worth.

This was supposed to be the Great Awakening for my Rotary career. Instead, it's more like forced geriatric isolation. I'm the only young fool to sign up for this trip, and the vibes are starting to get to me.

It could be the beer. It could be that.