BY THE WAY: MILKING THE DAIRY STATE FOR A REFINED VACATION

The sky was slate gray, the climate as comfortable as an IRS audit and yet I was still feeling like I found a piece of heaven.

When you're on vacation you can overlook the veneer of an otherwise gloomy panorama and get to the good stuff. Especially when you're visiting a resort town as endearing as Lake Geneva, Wis.

A woman who owns a bookstore called The Breadloaf provided some insight into the personality of this town. She said the population of 6,000 swells to nearly 100,000 in the summer.

This annual pilgrimage of wannabe cheesehead tourists turns off the locals to the point that they won't even venture into the downtown area. The reason? Parking space is harder to find than a store that will sell alcohol after 9 p.m.

That's another thing I found interesting. It's a state law in Wisconsin that you can't buy a six pack in a store after 9 p.m. However, it's OK to hang out at any of the restaurants or bars into the wee hours and imbibe until your wallet is emptied. Gee, I wonder who benefits from this law.

Another law that is enforced in an interesting way is parking violations. The parking meters only eat quarters, so it's not that difficult to let the thing expire while strolling along the lake.

If you see a ticket on your windshield the initial temptation is to laugh, crumple it up and toss it into the nearest trash can. Hah, I don't live here, who's going to take the time to track me down, you muse.

However, a stern warning on the front of the ticket, which doubles as a payment envelope, informs the violator that any future transaction with a new license, a license plate or the sale of the same automobile will be blocked until the fine is paid.

You can pay $5 the same day you receive the fine or a late fee of $10 some 24 hours after the heinous crime is committed. Mindful that I have to renew my license later this month, I opted for the $5 fine. Talk about being milked by the Dairy State.

Convenience is the next order of business. There are yellow boxes attached to the parking meters that will accept the fine paid in full.

Normally the parking fine would have made me mad for an hour or so. But not on this day. I was too busy taking in the landscape of the lake.

I noticed a mansion that overlooks the lake. The woman at The Breadloaf told me that it was built by the Wrigleys and included a tennis court and swimming pool on the top deck.

The edifice reminded me of The Great Gatsby, the story and the home that F. Scott Fitzgerald created. I thought I even saw a light beckon tourists from the top floor.

The distant light wasn't there to lure people to the mansion. Rather, the light was used to remind the rich and famous who the biggest cheesehead on the lake really was.

The day on the lake wouldn't have been complete without tourists asking me if I would mind shooting a picture of them with their disposable camera.

I'm not sure what country they were from, but I would guess a place where winter Olympics were very important. Perhaps they were from Geneva, Switzerland.

As I focused in on the foursome, I was tempted to tell them to say cheese.

They were too busy joking about whether or not I would take them up on the request to shoot them literally.

"You've got us all in the lens now don't you?" queried one of the tourists. Just before I clicked off the picture, a sail boat drifted into the background.

We couldn't have choreographed it any better if we tried. I took this as an omen that my vacation would be smooth sailing the rest of the way.

On the way home I forgot that there would be at least two toll booths to feed. The first one called for exactly 15 cents. I barely had the change the first time. This time I only had some pennies.

Since the booth was automated I tossed in the handful of pennies and stared at the stop light that remained red. With a feeling of guilt that perhaps some bank robbers haven't experienced, I looked around and slowly rolled passed the stop sign.

I guess I'll find out later this month if the state of Wisconsin wants to keep me from renewing my license.

~Bill Heitland is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.