By Roxy Reno

We’ve got an entire treatise on the subject but it comes down to this: For several reasons we are convinced that the rural tavern is on its way out and it is a sad thing. We seem to be giving up a unique part of our cultural heritage and it’s going out with more of a whimper than a bang.

Our mission is simple: We’re going to bring you, the reader, along with us into as many of the rural haunts in our area as we can before they go away. Our grail is the Miller High Life Shorty. We hope you enjoy.

We headed east outta Appleton. It was me, the Slav, and a smartass French Canadian. As fate would have it we passed the sign for highway GG just as the Drive by Trucker’s “The night GG Allin came to town” queued on the disc player. Franswa piped up from the back and assured us “you find karaoke and I’ll stick the microphone up my ass as part of my act.” We ended up at Van Abel’s in Hollandtown. Thankfully, no karaoke.

All kidding aside, Van Abel’s is nothing short of a national treasure and if you don’t visit on a semi-regular basis, shame on you. We arrived for a late cocktail and found the staff more than personable, the brandy sour old-fashioned stellar, the Jim Beam and waters well poured.

Thing we learned from the staff at Van Abel’s: It’s called Schut (pronounced scoot). It’s like this, they secure a rubber/wood duck on a high pole and shoot at it with guns. Real guns, real bullets, old Dutch tradition dating back to 1849. Whoever succeeds in blowing the duck off its perch is crowned the King of the Schut. The Schut was held in the town of Hollandtown proper until three years ago when it was moved to the Brillion shooting range for safety reasons.

Secure in our knowledge of the Schut and with well rehearsed directions from our lovely bartender who asked not to be named but was a national treasure in her own right, we lit out for Dundas and were rewarded with a snow-covered street, two bars and an utter lack of Appleton Angels.

(Song playing on the radio as we pulled into town: I don’t want to go to Dundas. I said no, no, no.)

Our first stop was 2 of a Kind, dontcha know, and ya can’t go wrong with $1 cans of Blatz and ladies dart night. The place was full and we linger, chatting up the opposition from team Kaukauna. The Drive By Trucker selection was sparse and the night was still young so we headed across the street to Double D’s. We get the feeling this trail (and vice versa) has been traveled before.

Where we ran into Lanetta and her pinwheels (some sort of doughy Dundas delight) and Bubbles who can’t even hit her mouth and “Oh Yeah, You Betcha!” Shorty Miller High Lifes! Again, we linger. Many Drive By Trucker songs are played, the short ones come fast and furious, and Tammy is imploring the baser sex to hit the target. We don’t notice much of a difference between the choices in Dundas; both were pretty simple places full of nice people. Double D’s may have had fewer TVs than the tav across the street but other than that, they pretty much were two of a kind.

We leaned on Lanetta for our next destination. After some consideration and consultation with a couple of regulars, she gave us two choices involving 180 and the highway Z, we took the road less…

“No, but we got taps, here ya go” was the answer to our query in regards to more Shortys. We landed at Bo Deans Bowl in Greenleaf. We met a self-described stripper from Dundas. We had pudding shots as card sharps were playing euchre in the corner, we listened to the Drive by Truckers but not very much and found the alleys…Sweet little four top any Lebowski would be glad to call home... We met Tara and her pals, and it was unexpectedly pleasant, so much so it’s as far as we got for the evening.

I know for sure absolutely three things:

1. I’m going to Flippers (next door to Bo Deans) for fish some Friday.

2. We could have played pool in every place we visited but didn’t.

3. We’re bringing friends to Greenleaf for Caucasians and bowling.

Four bars in five hours. We might have to get after it a little earlier next time. We missed a place in Greenleaf and never made it to the Rocky Top. For three rubes from the city it was an exercise in good-natured Wisconsin hospitality. The places we visited were warm, friendly and each unique in its own way; the people the places contained were more so.