When you visit a random city like Milwaukee, here's the most common question you get: "Why are you going there in August, did somebody die?"
Nope. I went to Milwaukee last weekend to see some friends, hit two baseball games, abuse my body, do some tailgating and make the holy pilgrimage to Lambeau Field. Call it an old-school male bonding weekend, the kind of thing guys did before Vegas became popular. I even kept a running mega-diary. Here's what transpired.