West Side Stories

Last week, my family and I decided to do dinner and a movie. Or, I should say, we went to dinner during a movie. We went to Waukesha. To the brand, spanking-new Palladium at the Majestic. We went to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3 – At World’s End. I know, I know – we could have gone to the Rosebud, but we wanted to try something new. And frankly, I’m not so good at eating without a table in front of me.

The verdict? The movie was OK. Better than #2, but nowhere close to #1 – in my opinion. The theater was pretty swanky and I have to say, those people at Marcus really do it in style. I realize they’re still sort of celebrating their grand opening, but a chamber ensemble in the lobby? Now that’s classy. The service during the movie? Not great. Definitely not as good as The Rosebud. The same can be said for the food. Still, it was fun to try a new place and venture out of Tosa.

My husband and I are two of the very few people, apparently, that took advantage of Mayfair’s “dinner theatre” when it used to be open. It wasn’t great, but it was a fun option for weary parents who wanted a night out, close to home. Alas, the “dinner theatre” and birthday parties didn’t last very long, but the megaplex lives on.

The East Side has the Fox Bay Cinema Grill. The western suburbs now have The Palladium. Sure, we have the Rosebud Cinema Drafthouse, but does anyone else wish we had a “real” dinner theatre option again in Tosa?

Somebody help me out here because cycle season is upon us. They’re abundant here in Wauwatosa for good reason: Our tree-lined streets and parkway paths are ideal for a warm weather ride. The problem I’m having is the tenuous relationship between bikes and cars.

I understand that we should yield to bicycles for obvious safety reasons. I try to take a wide path around cyclists whenever possible. Usually, it’s not a problem, but I’ve noticed in recent years a growing trend. I’ll call it the Tour du Tosa trend.

Today’s cyclists are serious riders. They have that Lance Armstrong look from head to toe and they tend to ride in packs. No doubt that makes the ride more enjoyable…for them. For me, in my car, it makes driving around these Tour du Tosans trickier than ever. They don’t hesitate to ride two or three abreast, often occupying much of the traffic lane. Fine, I think. They want to ride in traffic. They want to have, as the bumper sticker reads “equal rights.” I patiently wait behind them until it’s safe to widely pass them. Which is great, until we get to a stop sign and they blow right through it, while I obey the law and stop.

This is where I need help. I’ve tried to look up the rules of the road as they apply to bicycles. The rules that I found were more like guidelines, except for the one that reads: “Obey all traffic rules.” Seems to me that would include stopping at stop signs and stop lights. So which is it? Do they get to ride in traffic but ignore posted signs? Is it OK when they occupy much of a traffic lane? What are we drivers supposed to do when we encounter a rider in the middle of a lane of traffic, traveling at speeds far below the posted speed limit?

It goes without saying that I’ll continue to exercise caution when I encounter cyclists on my daily drives. But I also hope they’ll understand if I’m a little annoyed when they’re exercising their rights without accepting any responsibilities.

This past Saturday, I visited our local post office. It was fairly crowded. In case you didn’t hear about it, postal rates have increased again and it now costs 41 cents to mail a first-class letter. It was one of the rare times that I was organized enough to recognize this rate change before it happened, which was yesterday. So, I counted up the 39 cent stamps that I had and headed over to the Post Office on Mayfair Road to buy two-cent stamps. Most people were there to buy one of two things: Two cent “make up” stamps or Forever Stamps.

There was a bit of a buzz among the crowd of people waiting their turn. A few customers were buying Forever Stamps and people wanted to know what they were. Forever Stamps were recently introduced by the Post Office as way to avoid rate increases. These stamps will be good, well, forever! No matter how much first class postage goes up, these stamps will always be valid. I bought a few sheets of Forever Stamps for $8.20 each, but knowing my luck, I’ll misplace them and end up buying more stamps anyway.

One forward-thinking fellow was really intent on avoiding long-term price hikes. Those of us standing in line couldn’t help but hear when the postal employee told the man that his total came to over $1,200! It’s an interesting strategy, but I wondered if his money might be better off in the bank earning interest, rather than sitting in a drawer with the rest of his mailing supplies.

For me, the thing that signals spring in Wisconsin isn’t the burst of foliage everywhere. It’s not the crowded garden stores or the sudden abundance of walkers and runners. No, I know that it’s spring because of the roar of the race cars, one of my favorite sounds in the world. I live within earshot of Wisconsin State Fair Park. My home, which is walking distance from our quaint little Village, is apparently listening distance from the Milwaukee Mile. Every spring without fail, racecars practice at the Mile before and after the Indy 500. It’s a sound that brings me back to my childhood.

As I’ve mentioned in the past, I’m not a Wisconsin native. I grew up in Chicago. (Don’t worry, I’ve renounced my Windy City Citizenship and am a proud Cheesehead.) My father was an amateur sports car racer in the Sports Car Club of America. While my friends and their families spent their summers visiting tourist attractions or going on “real” vacations, I spent mine at racetracks throughout the Midwest. It would not be uncommon to find me and my family at State Fair Park or Wilmot or Road America, timing qualifying laps or polishing a bright yellow MG Midget. While other kids tracked box scores for their favorite baseball teams, I learned to replace points and figure out where we needed to finish in order to make the Runoffs at the end of year.

It was a curious upbringing filled with the sounds of engines and the smells of gasoline, two things I still love. After school on Friday, we’d all jump in the family station wagon and tow the racecar to the track for tech inspection. We’d unload and head for the motel, which on a good weekend, would have a pool and a restaurant. One of my favorites was the Ramada on Bluemound Road that was pretty cool because it had an indoor pool – bonus.

I was one of the few 16-year olds that not only knew how to drive a full-size passenger van, but could tow a trailer with racecar (and back it up) and talk on the CB Radio. Sadly, those skills never impressed the boys very much, although my dad’s garage certainly did.

So when I sit outside and enjoy the warming weather, I can’t help but smile when I hear the engines revving and the gears changing. It brings me back to a simpler, albeit unconventional time. And it reminds me that summer is just around the next corner…or hairpin turn.