This weekend I’ll be the poster child for living the dangerous life. As you’ve no doubt guessed, I’m going to Wisconsin. I know – that’s no place for a Viking fan.
I’m sure you’ve heard horror stories of border patrol who will strip you of any clothes that fail to fall into one of their legal wardrobe classifications: which consist of plaid, camouflage, packer green, or blaze orange. Who in the hell wears camo in public? They also require you to purchase a Packer sticker for every window of your vehicle or alternately have a minimum of two packer window flags.
To avoid be hassled I’ve packed my “shit kickers” (that’s work or cowboy boots for you non-rednecks), my billy-bob teeth, a brett farve air freshener – hanging from my rear view mirror (vicodin scented), and have four-point-non-typical deer rack mounted to the grill. Finally, to be extra safe, I’ll have a case of “Old Mill” in plain site.
They’ll let me right on through.