On Saturday, I spent my birthday with my wife’s family in the fine northern town of Ely, MN. We looked through quaint antique shops, saw tourists from many parts of the country, and drove around some beautiful lake country. In other words, a whole afternoon of pure, unfiltered donkey excrement.
On the plus side, while walking out of a cheap Italian restaurant, I did pass by Will Steger.
That seemed about right since basically the only thing I knew about Ely was that that’s where Will Steger is from.
At any rate, I nodded to him warmly, and he firmly palmed my buttocks in return. His cheeks were rugged and stubbly, and his breath was warm and fragrant. As Bridgette looked on fondly, I hesitantly pulled away from Steger’s tender embrace. At that brief moment, he whispered something beautiful into my ear and disappeared into the diner as quickly as he had appeared.
Then we went to Dairy Queen.