The Great Goat Float Incident

Image courtesy of clipartlibrary.com

Parade season will soon be upon us.  I know this because I am in charge of organizing the Pine Island FFA Alumni float each year for the Pine Island Cheese Fest, which is the first festival of the summer.  So, side note, mark your calendars for June 2 in Pine Island!

Parades were a big part of my summers as a kid, first as a spectator and later on as a participant with my peeps on unicycles.  Boy, those were the days!

No parade, however, will be as etched in my mind as the Elgin Cheese Days parade with the Great Goat Float Incident.

This escapade for many years was top secret and never spoken of outside of the circle of instigators, mainly to protect some minors who had been involved.  And mostly to irritate the crap out of one particular person specifically.  I shall not name this person because those minors who are now adults still need to be protected.

If you've followed this blog at all, or know anything about me, you know that my dad and his cronies were first class imps and often up to mischief.  I've always maintained their mischief was never malicious, and I'll stand by that, although you may not agree with me by the end of this post.

Anyway, any one who really knows me, or knew my dad and his buddies, knows that hauling outhouses around in the middle of the night was the height of entertainment in and around Potsdam, Elgin, and Plainview.  If you don't know this, please read Outlaws and Outhouses before reading any further here.

During one particular night of entertainment, the Terrifying Triad consisting of my dad and his two buddies decided to up their game.  They wouldn't just leave an outhouse this time.  No, now they'd add livestock to it.  What better livestock to go with an outhouse than a goat, right?  Sure, why not?

Now, Elgin, Minnesota is not now nor has it ever been a thriving metropolis, but it's a pretty little town in the country.  On the outskirts of town proper, there is a subdivision of more upscale homes than the bungalows inside city limits.

This area of Elgin was called Wood Lawn Estates, and the entrance into the subdivision was right off of Highway 42, which served a a main trunk road between I-90 and Wabasha and one of the three crossings into Wisconsin.  In other words, it wasn't just local yokels (no offense to my fellow yokels) who were going to witness this gag.  It was travelers possibly from far and wide.

So in the dark of night, the Terrifying Triad loaded up the outhouse to be used, collected the goat from who knows where, and made their way to the first lot in Wood Lawn Estates that abutted Highway 42.  They got the outhouse unloaded and staked the goat to it.  The final flourish that made this escapade different than most was the sign they erected in front of the outhouse and tethered goat:  Wood Lawn Estates Goat Ranch.  They drove away, satisfied with their night's work.

The owner of that lot where the outhouse and goat had been left failed to see the humor of the situation and knew full well who had done it but couldn't prove it, of course.  This made him rather discontent and grumpy.

How do parades play into this, you might ask?  Wait for it, my pretties, wait for it.

Shortly thereafter, it was time for Elgin Cheese Days, the weekend when Elgin's population of 625 exploded with visitors eager for deep fried cheese curds, grilled chicken, and of course, the parade on Sunday afternoon.

The Terrifying Triad all attended the same little country church in Potsdam, and after Sunday services while the kids were in Sunday school, they were in the basement having coffee and cookies with the other men of the congregation.  One guy was talking about the new pickup that he had just picked up from dealer the day before...it didn't even have 100 miles on it yet.

I don't know whose mind first thought up the next scheme because--hey--I was in Sunday School, but by the time we all left church there was a mastermind plan in place to really irritate the Wood Lawn Estates lot owner who'd had an outhouse and goat in his front yard for God and country to see.

The masterpiece plan included:

• The brand new pickup that no one would recognize being driven by an out-of-town visiting relative dressed in a gorilla suit
• A utility trailer with the outhouse on it hiding a boy holding the rope halter for the goat
• Two men dressed as the Goat Queen and the Runner Up
• Two girls dressed as Goat Queen attendants

They got to the parade and got entered last minute as a parade unit.  The side of the pickup was bedecked with a banner proclaiming it to be the Wood Lawn Estates Goat Queen and her court.  The float got lots of laughs because the "queen" was well-known, even in drag, to many of the spectators.  No one knew who was driving the unrecognized pickup thanks to the gorilla costume.  The two girls were just there as window dressing and didn't really have much to do with any of it other than waving to the crowd.  Elbow, elbow, wrist, wrist, wrist is the proper parade wave, just so you know.  

Then, toward the very end of the parade route, all hell broke loose.  The irritated lot owner saw the float with its sign and its mascot, which was fine.  Then he saw the banner on the back with his home phone number, and THEN he charged the float fully determined to do some physical damage.  The driver quickly locked the doors and rolled up the windows before the irritated lot owner could pull off the face mask of the costume.  

Next the irritated lot owner ran to the back of the float and jumped on the utility trailer, scared the crap out of the goat--quite literally--and proceeded to try and push open the door of the outhouse that was now being held shut by the boy inside bracing his feet against the door.  

The Queen and her runner up jumped out of the bed of the pickup where they'd been riding and one got the irritated lot owner under control while the other one pulled the hitch pin so the driver could escape.  The two girls simply stood in bewilderment as chaos ensued.  In all the confusion, the boy in the outhouse sneaked out and took refuge in a corn field that ran along the street where the float had stopped.  

You can't make this kind of stuff up, but if you don't believe my tale, here is photographic proof. 

The Wood Lawn Estates Goat Queen court

Let's just pause here and admire the brilliance of a group of adult men who not only could come up with that scheme in under 30 minutes after church on a Sunday morning in rural Minnesota but could pull it off so successfully!  And let's applaud them:  well done, Terrifying Triad, well done!