The Wristband, the Sausage Race, and Everything Else Milwaukee Game Day Didn't Warn Us About
We had one job on Brewer’s game day: get there, watch the game, get back. Somehow it still turned into a wristband negotiation, a screaming match over a sausage, and an ice cream shaped like a chicken drumstick. So, a normal day for us.
It started at Milwaukee Brat House, one block from our hotel, where any purchase gets you a wristband for the free game-day shuttle. I want you to picture three grown adults doing actual cost-benefit math over a single hard cider — does this count as "a purchase"? Is a $6 wristband technically the best deal in Milwaukee? We debated this with the seriousness of people closing a business deal. It was, unbelievably, the highlight of the pregame.
The shuttle drops you close enough to walk in with the crowd, and that's the moment a road trip stops being a plan on a page and starts being a place. Roof open, sun still out, everyone already a little too loud.
Once we found our seats, we just... stayed. Whole game, start to finish, no early exit, no eye on the clock. Bernie Brewer's slide in left-center, waiting for a home run that never quite came for the home team. Then, top of the sixth: the Sausage Race. If you've never seen five people in enormous foam costumes sprint down the warning track for no reason anyone can fully explain, I cannot properly prepare you. You just have to stand up, pick a sausage, and commit.
Somewhere in there, someone handed Lance an ice cream shaped like a fried chicken drumstick, and none of us have recovered.
By the time the last out happened, we weren't in a hurry to leave — and we didn't have to be. Walked straight back out with the crowd, caught the same shuttle back to the Brat House, no traffic standoff, no parking lot chaos. Just a slow, easy end to a very loud day.
Here's the thing about game day that I keep coming back to: none of what actually made the trip memorable was on the itinerary. It wasn't the plan. It was the wristband negotiation, the sausage nobody picked but everyone screamed for anyway, staying put long enough to actually watch the whole thing unfold.
That's sort of the whole Reset & Roam idea, if I'm honest — the trip works better when you stop trying to run it on a schedule and just stay where you are a little longer. You can't plan your way into a good time. You can just show up, pick a sausage, and let the day take as long as it takes.
Next up in this series: what actually happens when you take that same energy and turn it loose on Wrigleyville.
Related Links:
We Planned a Reds Road Trip. Milwaukee and Chicago Had Other Plans. — Harmony Horizon 360 Travel
What to Pack for an Alaska Cruise
Here's what my one day in Glacier Bay looked like, wardrobe-wise: swimsuit, windbreaker, my nice dinner dress, and a hood cinched so tight I looked like a very stressed extra in a documentary about Everest. All before 2pm. That's Alaska for you. The weather doesn't pick a mood and stick with it — it picks four.
So let's talk packing, because I see you over there with your Pinterest board of "cute cruise outfits," and I need you to gently close that tab.
Alaska doesn't care about your outfit. Alaska cares whether you can go from misty deck to windy overlook to warm dining room without a costume change every ninety minutes. The secret isn't more clothes. It's the right three or four layers, doing all the work.
What actually earns suitcase space:
• A packable rain jacket — not "water resistant," actually waterproof. You will wear this more than anything else you own.
• A warm mid-layer (fleece or a light puffer) you can add or peel off without thinking.
• A moisture-wicking base layer, because "cold and damp" is Alaska's love language.
• Real shoes with grip. Not the cute flats. I'm not kidding. I watched someone's cute flats become a cautionary tale on a wet gangway.
• A hat and gloves, even in June. Especially in June.
What you can leave home:
• The third pair of jeans. You need one, maybe two.
• Hair tools. The wind and I have already discussed this, and the wind wins.
• A different outfit for every single dinner. Nobody is keeping a spreadsheet on your black pants except you.
Here's the part that's actually about more than packing: overpacking is usually about control. If I bring eleven options, I can control every possible version of how this trip goes. Except you can't, and that's kind of the point of traveling somewhere as wild and unpredictable as Alaska in the first place.
Layering light is a small, physical way of practicing the thing Reset & Roam is actually about — leaving room. Room in your suitcase, room in your schedule, room for the trip to surprise you instead of you white-knuckling it into submission.
You don't need eleven outfits. You need four good layers and permission to wear the same fleece in three different photos. Here's to less suitcase, more sky.
If you want the full breakdown — exact pieces, what to buy versus what you already own, and the packing list I actually use — it's all in the Alaska Cruise Packing Guide. Alaska Cruise Packing Guide — Printable + Fillable PDF Checklist — Harmony Horizon 360 Travel
PS — funny timing: I actually just opened up availability for that 2027 Alaska sailing I keep talking about. If you would like more information please sign up on my interest list. Trip Interest List.
Suggested Links
Read more here 👇
What Alaska Did to My Sense of Time — Harmony Horizon 360 — Harmony Horizon 360 Travel
We Were Already Driving Past Chicago. Obviously We Stopped.
There's a moment on every road trip where someone looks at the map and says the thing.
This time it was me. We were planning our Milwaukee trip — Reds game, a couple of days exploring the city — and I pulled up the route and just stared at it.
We were driving right past Chicago.
Right past it.
I lasted about four seconds before I started looking at hotels.
Here's how we travel: we park the car, leave it there, and wander. Walk until something interesting appears. Pop into whatever looks good. Talk to people. Get a little lost in a neighborhood and find our way back with a story we didn't plan on having.
That's not a strategy. That's just who we are.
And Wrigleyville? That's a neighborhood built for exactly that kind of wandering.
The hotel that sealed it was Hotel Zachary.
Specifically: the stadium view rooms.
I don't know what it is about seeing a ballpark from your hotel window, but it gets me every time. And this is Wrigley. One of the most iconic stadiums in all of baseball, sitting right there outside the glass.
Our team isn't playing. We are Reds fans, full stop, and we will not pretend otherwise. But here's what baseball road trippers know that casual fans don't: the stadium matters regardless of who's on the field. The history, the architecture, the neighborhood that grew up around it — that's the experience. Wrigley is worth seeing even on an off day.
We'll be seeing it from a really good room.
Also: pizza.
This is non-negotiable. Chicago pizza is its own entire conversation and we are ready to have it. Deep dish versus tavern style is still under debate in this household and honestly that discussion might carry us all the way there.
If you have strong feelings about this — and I know you do — the comments are open.
This is what Reset & Roam actually looks like: you're already headed somewhere great, and then you look at the map and realize you could also stop somewhere great, and you just... do it.
No elaborate planning required. Sometimes the best addition to a trip is the one you almost drove past.
If you're building your own baseball city trip and want help thinking through the details — the stadium, the neighborhood, where to stay, how to structure the days — The Away Game Planner was made for exactly this kind of trip.
And if you want to know how a Wrigleyville night actually goes? Check back. We'll report from the field.