Camp Omaha was set up in a corner of the yard with security provided by the Twins. These were replacements for the Twins which drowned in Moab a couple years ago. Dallas had them stashed in his basement and was 'reluctant' to release them. Clint, being the clever guy he is, distracted his Dad before leaving and rescued the Twins from captivity, all this unbeknownst to their captor. Let's just say Dallas had a strange look on his face when he saw the Twins, in their full glory, protecting Camp Omaha. Priceless ! Sadly, proper decorum prevents me from printing the descriptive set of comments Dallas made upon recognizing his prized Twins. Priceless deja vu !

Rogue's Gallery

Later that day we had the flocking and shrimp boil. It wasn't a big flocking as right after the 4th this was a busy weekend for many, but it's not the quantity - it's the quality of those who attended (and for those of you who missed it - we'll just have to do this again - damn!) The worthy shrimp, award-winning Andouille sausage, corn, potatoes, expensive onions, a half dozen or so boxes of Zatarain's spices, and who knows what else were all were placed into Jeff's beer keg cooker at precise intervals as prescribed by Dallas - well . . . . at least as precise as could be, given the conditions. What a great meal. AT&T Rick and Bridgett showed up towards the end of the meal and were able to salvage the last seven shrimp. Copious quantities of Jagermeister and Red Bull were available for dessert - and, dare I say, consumed!

Music was playing, beverages were being consumed, people were conversing, a bonfire was firing, the mosquitoes were frightened away - one would hope a good time was had by all. And if a good time was not had by anyone, it was their own damn fault - so there! Slowly but surely, the crowd thinned. AT&T Rick, Bridgett, Larry and a few other hardy souls lasted until 11 or so. Larry surprised us all by closing down the bar at maybe 1 or 2, not sure (I was having trouble counting beyond 1.) Damn Jagermeisters! Larry's wife came and scraped him off the deck and took him home - thanks Ann!

	Morning came about 10 AM. The day started slowly - very slowly. Breakfast was consumed and the day's plans were made: "Want to go in to Chicago?" "Sure!" So let it be written, so let it be done! With Glenn as our tour guide, we headed into the big city, six of us in Clint's larger-than-life-size truck. We cruised LSD (Lake Shore Drive for you non-Chicagoans) for a while, ogled at the magnificent lake-front scenery and then cruised Michigan Avenue. After finding a place to stash the caravan, we walked over to the House of Blues, had a brew, then wandered around near the river (Omaha is close enough to Iowa to qualify.) Finally, Clint led a 1-1/2 mile charge, on foot, from wherever the hell we were to Navy Pier and one of the nearby beaches. One homeless guy got $1 out of Clint and then looked at Dallas and asked him if he could give him $50 ! Dallas must have that look of a philanthropist about him.

After some time intently looking at the sand and water, we retreated up the hill to a snobby State Street restaurant for $5 a bottle beer. We thought about Taste of Chicago but we had seen enough of the "upper class" - especially those who were having their wedding pictures taken on Michigan Avenue. Our tour guide suggested we drive over to Wrigleyville if we wanted to see some 'real' people. After paying that much for beer, it didn't take much for us to agree so Clint paid the $28 ransom to have his caravan extricated from the parking garage. We piled in and moseyed on over. Wrigleyville is a great area with lots of bars, lots of people and lots of entertainment. We spent the next 6 hours bar hopping, eating, people watching, and being pain-in-the-ass tourists. But it was fun, though!

Some unknown number of hours into this expedition, Clint amazed us with his magical powers. He had previously stashed a slider, along with associated cloth napkin, in a pocket in his trouser leg. Yeah, I know!    At any rate, we wound up in an Irish Bar where I was drinking Bailey's since I couldn't force another 22 oz. beer down my gullet to save my soul. Others were more fortunate and had ample room. Clint was demonstrating how to pull the cloth napkin out, without disturbing various items placed on top of the napkin - like plastic ketchup bottles, the previously mentioned slider, salt shakers and the like. The grand finale was to be Gary's, almost full, beer. Why Gary's? He left the table for an instant ! Preparations were in place and appropriate safety precautions were taken to save the beer in case the feat were to fail. Hands were strategically placed near the 'south' end of the glass. The drums rolled. The napkin was successfully removed but the beer glass, alas, elected to fly to the north, where there were no such precautions taken. Who would have thought that the little seam on the edge of the napkin could have such an effect? (Obviously none of us!) The almost full beer glass sailed 5 feet beyond the end of the table before it abruptly landed on the floor with a resounding crash and 20 ounces of good beer sadly spilled upon the floor. All in all, it was highly entertaining. It was even more entertaining when some of the wait staff came over and removed anything else that was breakable from our table (other than the remaining beverage glasses which were in service at the time.)

From there we slowly strolled along Clark Street, enjoying the Wrigleyville scenery. On return, we found that there were no tickets on the caravan. This came as a surprise as we had been in a 30 minute limit parking spot for 6 hours. One of the waitresses told us not to worry about it, as the plates weren't from Illinois. Needless to say, we didn't let this potential minor infraction of the law bother us nor impede our progress in any way, shape or form. Besides that, it wasn't my truck! So we piled into the caravan once again and drove down some mighty narrow streets before turning around and thus depositing ourselves Southbound on Clark. Observations were made about the size of the caravan compared to the other vehicles parked on said narrow streets. We could also only speculate on what the cabbies (not Cubbies) were saying as Clint was moving along at a slow enough pace for us to comment , vociferously, on the splendid architecture of Wrigleyville. Eventually we made it back to Camp Omaha. Steve was 'impressed' with the amount of driving to get us back. "Jeez, with all this driving we could have circled Omaha three times!" It was noticeably quiet on the way back. Perhaps the bars, the booze, the 3 mile hike and all the excitement had finally caught up with us. But damn, what a GOOD DAY we had ! ! !

It's Sunday afternoon now. Clint & Co. have left, but not without leaving their mark! Many bumper stickers seem to have mysteriously applied themselves to various items around the house - including Jeff and Larry's cars! (I do like the one on the tractor - that's a classy touch!) Anyone who can indeed live to tell about 1 or 2 days (or even an evening) of partying with Clint & Co., should indeed be proud to display such a unique banner.