Archive for the ‘Michigan’ Category


Apr 10

So, Michigan. No disrepect to what I am sure are the good people within, but it wasn’t on the agenda, so it gets no more than an hono(u)rable mention. If you do ever get the chance to travel through while going somewhere else, I recommend two things: do stop and eat at a White Castle, and do not under any circumstances kill a worker.

White Castle is delicious and worth leaving the White House for.

Killing a worker, so the signs on the side of the road will ‘explain’, nets you a fine of $7000.00, and up to 15 years in prison. Now, that doesn’t really tell you everything. I mean, if someone kills a worker while said worker is sitting around in his backyard, is it the same fine? Oh Michigan. You are so puzzling to me. If only Michael Moore would do a movie about you and your not to be murdered workers.

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Crossing the Border

Apr 10

Everyone knows, each journey of a thousand miles starts with an experience with a border guard.  If it’s a journey worth a damn, anyway. This trip, being extraordinary in every way (we’re all a part of it, it’s on the Internet, the South is a nice place, etc.) is no exception.

A recreation of my conversation with my strikingly loyal  and all around fine travelling companion (the boyfriend) is necessary.  It went down in Windsor, Ontario, close to the border, a bit like this:

Lisa:  Boyfriend, I think you should drive the car over the border.  The border guard will ask us where we are going, and I don’t know why we are going to Alabama.

Boyfriend (confused): Why wouldn’t we go to Alabama?

Lisa (sheepish): I know why, but others are confused by what we do.

Boyfriend (annoyed but agreeing):  Pull over, I’ll drive.

Lisa and Boyfriend arrive at the border.  The border guard looks particularly serious, and is checking every trunk thoroughly.  I am grateful not to be driving even before this exchange:

Border Guard:  Where you headed?

Boyfriend:  The South. Alabama and Mississippi. 

Border Guard (shaking his head disapprovingly):  Nope.  Nope.  There’s nothing there. Nothing. I used to be from Nashville, I’ve been to all those places, there is nothing there.

Boyfriend: That’s not true!  There’s the rocket thing in Huntsville, and the something else somewhere else and…

Border Guard (more interested than annoyed now): You really into history?

Boyfriend: Yeah.

Border Guard:  Turn off your car and give me the keys.

So, he looked in our trunk, opened the part of my luggage where I had my feminine hygiene products, and let us go. 

The moral of the story: Always listen to Lisa. Had I remained the driver, I would have been crying like a; well, a person being questioned at the border trying to explain why I was going to Alabama.

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