If it wasn't for the climate, Peter Pan would feel right at home in Madison, Wis.
It's the NeverNeverland of the Midwest, a town whose zany exuberance is appreciated by everyone but Republicans, whose
outnumbered governor once called it "57 square miles surrounded by reality.''
I'd been at the Arbor House Inn in Madison only a few hours when deja vu set in.
My room was in the 1853 Plough House, a former tavern and stagecoach stop that's one of the city's oldest buildings. It had a gas fireplace and floral decor, and it was a few steps across a pergola-covered walkway from the Annex, where wine and appetizers awaited guests near a wood fire in a window-lined great room.
It stirred a faint sense of recognition. An inn with two buildings, historic status, gas fireplace, floral decor . . . oh, right, I stayed at one of those last week, too.