Villa Terrace

“Don’t make any plans for Sunday,” she said. “I’m taking you on a date. All day.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said. “What are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” she said.

Time is an odd thing. It never seems consistent. Like how the drive to somewhere always seems longer than the drive back. When you’re having fun, it flies. And whenever you’re waiting for something time crawls like a snail on sleeping pills. This was no exception. The days dragged. It felt like I lived 10,000 years that week. (But I didn’t pick up any new skills during that time so it was a colossal waste of many millennia.)

But Sunday finally arrived. We both woke up early and she told me to pack some snacks because we were going on a bit of a drive. “And dress comfortably,” she said.

We jumped in her car and hit the road. At first, with each turn, and thought I could guess the destination no problem. I’d known Allison long enough; no way could she have any new tricks up her sleeve. All quantities were known at this point in our relationship. North up Western Avenue: breakfast in Evanston of course. Damn! We made a left on Touhy. “You’re taking me to the Mall?” I protested and thought about the cruelty of such a joke: making me inch through the week only to end up eating Cinnabon in the food court and shopping for kakis. Fortunately, no. She turned onto the highway, heading north. “Ah, the Botanic Gardens,” I said. “That’s lovely. Great idea. You’re very sweet,” I went on.

It’s hard not to love the Chicago Botanic Gardens in June.

But we flew right by the exit without a word, just a sinister little smirk on Allison’s face.

And we kept going and going until we made it to Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Could there be any kind of great date to be had in Milwaukee? I was skeptical.

Allison parked the car in somewhat residential neighborhood, but the houses were ginormous. One them was our destination: Villa Terrace—built in the style of an Italian Renaissance villa in 1923. Once the home of some industrialist in the 1920s, it’s now a museum and gardens. And it’s really nice. On weekend mornings a musician coos out soft sounds in the courtyard and locals stop in to read the paper, drink coffee, and meet up with friends.

We walked around the grounds and chatted about insignificant things. A woman took our picture in front of the fountain and gave us a great tip, “Say ‘puppies’,” she said. Not cheese. Not whiskey. Puppies. And she was right. If you ask someone to say “puppies” out of loud for a photograph, they’ll get a good smile going for sure. And it’s kinda genuine too.

“We better get going,” Allison said.

“Back to Chicago?”

“Well, this is the city of Pabst and Schlitz,” she answered. “So I thought I’d buy ya a Dakonnick.”

My favorite beer. And it’s an elusive one. Allison had managed to find probably the one place that served it. And we went had a couple and some lunch in the hip Milwaukee watering hole. Her cousin came and met us and we drank and laughed. But we didn’t linger.

And just as fast as we arrived, we headed back to Chicago. But we didn’t go home. We went to the beach in Roger’s Park.

As we walked down the promenade, dozens of artists were painting individual sections of a long concrete bench. Each year, artists paint 5 foot sections of the bench over a two day period. Allison had disappeared the day before. Finally getting something right, I knew one of the spaces was one hers.

What I didn’t know was what the painting would be. There’s no way to measure my surprise when I realized she had painted the place we were just at, Villa Terrace. And it was a masterpiece! It’s safe to say that I was totally blown away. All the way.

After a bit, I started to lead us back towards the car. “Hold on a sec,” she said, and started leading us in the other direction. A crowd had assembled and the organizers of the event were speaking over a loud speaker as we approached. Practically in stride, the voice said, “Second place goes to Allison Rae.” I stopped and Allison continued walking to the speaker to collect her prize.

She came back and said, “300 bucks. Now we can go drink some more.”