![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeR3DqBG9Ae61b3-4MzWKKoxiX11cijzMY6slb5CDRA3xAKH62KHIQuANKzXU-QPx9DsnanasI9tdcFxjd-7Hqe-t2WDhi5tMuA7BZmzZ8QxgXDzwbkOdttRnzPeI4_-Q_KywI/s320/Dairy+Queen+low.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLnCEVrJYQneoOb5sls6DYCszQOtdJCoyeXqZBYE82KN9dcXX5ywA4BfeenZog1WaZc9oV4DcmE5Af7QN9d2qWSQHG-X0wW76_r65UCvptEncljx6o-0tL8ySAhdv0Cp9Mrv39/s320/Dairy+Queen+high.jpg)
(Dairy Queen before and after flood. The water is up to the bottom of the sign at this point and to the roof)
Wednesday night I hopped on my bike and headed downtown to see the flood with my own eyes. At that point it was a little over 20 feet and was supposed to go to 24.5. As I rode out onto the First Avenue bridge I was sobered by the rush of the water and the thought that in just hours the place where I was standing would have water. At that time I had no idea that the water would be 10 feet higher! Man.
As I rode around you could see all the sandbags around the buildings, again set up for a flood stage of 22.5. Crews were loading sandbags and some were taking pictures, sheepishly I might say.
The mood was sober and the atmosphere ominous. Usually people talk to you, smile, nod, and exchange pleasantries. There was none of that. It was like attending a funeral. No chit chat, nothing. Tears came to my eyes several times and just as I typed that they did again. Tye, down, but not out.
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