Hahaha, nope. Don’t get me wrong, I agree that it is beyond surreal. The mind reels and spins into a spiral of “Why? Why? Why? WHY? WHY?!” and then goes blank in an attempt to block out the 6 foot carved elephant tusks surrounding by yards of red velvet while simultaneously being olfactorily overwhelmed by the pervasive stench of mildew.
It’s all of that, I just don’t find it disturbing or menacing, just plain whacked-out bizarre.
I went with some friends from college. You’ll really have to move very quickly to get through in 2 hours, and it’s not the kind of place you want to go through quickly because the next day you’ll be like “WTF, did I really see what I think I did?” and it will be too late.
I think I’d definitely like to see some of the (in)famous highlights - the carousel, the infinity room, the squid, - but wouldn’t exactly lose sleep over stuff I skimmed over or missed completely in 90-120 minutes. In fact a summary of real “don’t miss” stuff versus “I can’t believe there’s a room full of doll’s heads” or something would be helpful.
That, or I might conclude that the element of hyper-kitschy Americana that I’m looking for on this road trip will be an itch just as well scratched by “Wall Drug” later on, and visit Taliesin instead. Is 90-120 minutes enough for THAT? Because in the end, time is a big factor for me. (My tentative itinerary has me ending up in Minneapolis for dinner with a friend.)
When I went to Taliesin, I had to sign up for a tour. It was an hour or so. You can drive up to it but I’m pretty sure you won’t be able to get inside without being part of a group.
It’s a fantastic place, and there must be exhibits of interest to nearly everyone. As I remember from years ago it was laid out in a linear fashion, without any way to jump ahead or leave before the end. May have changed.
They mention being able to take the tour in any of 3 segments, or to do all 3 at a discount. But also that that was something recently added. So maybe there are now four entry/exit points where there only used to be two.
Skip the Field of Dreams and hit the Mississippi River Museum in Dubuque. In a few years the FoD might be good, but it’s in a bit of a transitional period now.
Wow! Some people really hated it! I had fun. Not that I’d ever want to LIVE in a joint like that. Actually the carousel stuff was pretty marvelous if you’re into carny memorabilia.
If nothing else, at least book a room at the Don Q Inn in Dodgeville, if they are still operating. Quirky old digs, you may have to specifically request a room without a mirror over the bed. I rather liked walking through the dark tunnel to the attached restaurant.
If you have nightmarish memories of past acid trips and would like to experience the closest thing to them without taking more acid, HOTR is the place for you!
Taliesin is a much better choice if you’re going to be in the Spring Green area.
We went to see it, not realizing that only about 2% of the “attraction” was the “house” itself, and the rest of it was all of the other insane collections in adjacent buildings. As others have noted, at least at that time, there was no option other than walk through everything. After 90 minutes or so, we really wanted to be done with it, but there was no choice other than soldiering on, hoping for an exit.
Yes, HOTR is freaking bizarre as all hell. But it’s refreshingly weird at that and worth seeing at least once in your life. Set aside at very least 3 hours if not more to see it and if you can’t do that now, skip it until you can do the full tour at a casual pace.
I’m surprised you never heard of Wall Drug. Wall Drug bumper stickers used to be extremely common to see all over the country. It’s worth a visit but it actually kind of on the lame side.
I’ll never forget the time I saw HOTR. As I was staring at the kettle drums suspended from the ceiling and thinking, “Lord, this guy was INSANE! Not at all a WELL man!,” a mighty Midwestern thunderstorm rolled through and knocked out the power to the whole place. We took refuge in a snack bar but left when water started gushing in a door to the outside. So, we walked backwards through the house, guided by emergency backup lights. The giant carousel had, of course, become still and appeared as a dark, menacing tribute to all your evil clown nightmares.
At least we were spared any more walking through that physical representation of a descent into madness.
I don’t mean to discourage anybody from going, though. It IS one of the seven wonders of the roadside world.