Scav Road Trip: WI

Item #248:
“What would you say if I told you that your nickname was The Boat?” These must be the first words you say to a random traveler at the Van Galder bus stop in Madtown. Said traveler must be waiting for the 14:00 bus to Chicago. The Clan Costner must convince this traveler to carry a receipt and a book from Booked før Murder to Union Station in Chicago, where he/she will give up the receipt and his/her nickname to the mysterious stranger with a corncob pipe and a captain’s hat. [40 points]

It was a hot, sunny day in Madison. We got to the bus station early, so we waited for a bit, suffering glances of countless Madisonians. I can't blame them; if I saw four people dressed like Kevin Costner characters, I'd stare too.

We had the brilliant idea to go to the ticket counter (which was in the book store) to wait for people to buy tickets to Chicago. But, it turns out most people buy their tickets in advance, so we went out to the bus stop, looking for people with baggage.

One woman was already carrying a book. We stood around, undoubtedly sketchy, and tried to pick our mark. Then, a girl with pink hair (I think). She was sitting on her bag, looking a bit glum.

James did it. "What would you say if I told you your nickname was The Boat?"

"Go away," she said, not moving her gaze. Immediately we started groveling. "Please, it's for a scavenger hunt, we go to the University of Chicago, we just need you to carry this book, there'll be a guy at the station, corncob pipe,..."

She acquiesced. "I guess I'll do it for the U of C." Somehow we had lucked upon a sympathizer, though she never revealed the nature of her connection.

***

Item #61:
Don’t disturb the dead, even if the dead disturb you. Clan Costner always calls ahead. [25 points]

What the hell is this?, we wondered. Somehow we learned that we were supposed to go to a funeral home in Tomah, Wisconsin, maybe 45 minutes out of Madison.

We arrived and were immediately invited downstairs by a manager, or owner, or something. She was friendly and cordial, and interested in us as young people. A sort of "Oh, isn't that just lovely, what you kids are doing" kind of way.

Downstairs, in this funeral home in Wisconsin, we found a large taxonomy museum. Deer were coming out the walls, birds were flying overhead, and ferrets were chasing each other around a tree. Then there was the squirrel room. They had been arranged like dolls in various poses. This one's cooking dinner. This one's relaxing on the beach. This one's storing nuts. And there was a bar, with a little squirrel bartender and little squirrel regulars drinking little squirrel-sized cocktails from little squirrel-sized glasses. There was one who was hitting on another one by the bar, and another who was leaning over his drink, as if he'd been broken by years of misery.

To complete the item we needed to fill out a worksheet, counting antlers, finding certain figures, etc. One of the tasks was to count all the fish in the museum, so I started. Then, after 120 or so, I lost count, and started again. Then, after 150 or so, I lost count, and started again. Then, I had all of them except for those that were in the back room, which was filled with fish. And I lost count. And I started again. In the end, there were over 200 fish in that basement museum, including several who were mounted on motorized carousel so they looked like they were being dragged in circles by the lures stuck in their mouths.

The owner was very nice, though, and gave us directions to get back on I-90. Funeral home directors always seem to be nice.