The Legendary Summer Hooky Day
Chuck and I started doing trivia together in 2007. In pretty quick fashion we became friends and co-business owners. One of those first summers Chuck invited me to hooky day. Chuck’s friends named everything. His friends were an inverted bell curve of employment. Many had better jobs than any of my friends. They either ran the Zombie Pub Crawl (for a handful of the founders the single day Zombie Pub Crawl would legitimately require close to year round full-time work and would legitimately provide close to year round pay). Chuck’s friends were fun and adventurous and they generally just seemed to be much more down for some weird shit than my friends were. The crown jewel of their summer calendar was hooky day.
TUBING
You have to understand that I didn’t do anything like this growing up. My family was criminally indoors. Maybe some camping while I was with another family, but definitively, nothing like this. And you have to understand that when you join traditions in your 20s that have been happening for five years you feel like you are joining an ancient tradition. Five years is an eon in your twenties. It was just in 2024 that I realized that I was one of the old guard. I was a tuber. I love hooky day.
I’ve gotten sunburnt on hooky day. I’ve gotten very drunk. I’ve held on to my trunks desperately while my testicles and butt are assaulted by a Soul Train style dance line of rocks in four inch water. Tubing is arduous to my sensitive ass (and testicles). I’m sure there are many recreation activities that are far more arduous than tubing. But I don’t do most of those. This is different than a cabin day. This is different than a road trip. This is different than pickle ball.
TUBING
I don’t know everyone who comes to tubing day. A lot of them I just see that day. But I see them every year on this day for years and years. “Do you still manage the website for a bicycle equipment company” “how’s the library” “are you still working for the state and do you still get a half day of vacation every pay period?” These are morning questions but at some point the conversation turns to tubing. One time I asked a random life question while riding down to the spot in Taylor’s care. Taylor didn’t answer the question. . .he just paused and said. . . “that’s a good question for the river.” The conversation is the beautiful Cannon River scenery. We are haphazardly grabbing beers. We are laughing at things. We are singing made up songs. We are pulling over to enjoy some sweaty chartuberie. Some people roll with some coolers in a float-tilla. Some people are lone wolves on their own solo tube journey. I’m always next to Claudia. I don’t know if she appreciates it. But she lets me tie up with her every year. She doesn’t miss tubing day either.
TUBING
It’s important that it happens in the middle of the week. Everyone has taken this severe choice of a single day of vacation. You eat a little breakfast in the Twin Cities. You drive to Welch Village. You maybe get a burger on the way home and then you are back into regular life. This is just a special thing. It’s a special group. The ringleader is Taylor. He seems to be sort of a professional ringleader for a job, bouncing from thing to thing, bands, events, publications and more. We get a little universe here on the Cannon River for a day and Taylor is who brings us together. You flake too many years in a row. . .you’re not on the list anymore. But Taylor always assembles a crew.
TUBING
I’m a regular, but I’m still a visitor. Most of this crew met at the University of Minnesota. They’re mostly from North Dakota and Wisconsin; college transplants. I don’t understand all of the magic of hooky day, even after almost ten years in the mix. But ever since the first time I did this I knew I would love this tradition for as long as could. You can wake up in Saint Paul and by 11am be drinking a beer, lighting a joint and getting a sunburn in the middle of a river.
NOTE THE DRAGONFLY ON THOSE LEGS
At the start of this year’s journey someone asked me why my wife Rachel comes to this. Rachel would hate it. Rachel’s tolerance for stoned, drunk, idiots in the daytime is next to zero. Rachel’s tolerance for sustained periods of body wetness in trying environments. . .zero. This year a thunderstorm just parked on top of the river and unloaded rain on us for about fifteen minutes. Pouring rain. I looked over at Johanna and she was just getting assaulted by rain. Her foldy sun hat was soaked and folding around her face as she tried to balance in her tube. I think if I invited Rachel to an event where that happened. . .she might actually divorce me. Tubing is arduous. Hooky day is magical. I will tube forever.