After stopping at a local pub to root for Eli Manning to fall into a mild coma lasting the length of his game versus the Rams so that Sean wouldn't lose in fantasy football, we checked into our hotel. A bit of exploring found a $15, incredibly graphic Hustler XXX magazine under our television stand, truly capturing the essence of the classy establishments we are staying in on this trip. Exhausted as we were from our Canadian excursion, we were quickly lulled to sleep by the sounds of low flying aircraft going this way and that around Detroit's airport.
We arose the following morning and ventured down for our free continental breakfast, consisting of orange juice, bread and microwavable oatmeal, minus the microwave. Feeling guilty that we gorged on such a feast, we opted to try and work it off at the hotel's gym facilities. It turns out that their idea of a gym is mismatched weights, a broken bench and some very sad looking treadmills that were missing part of their "tread" in several locations. Needless to say, we got our swell on, hit the showers and were ready for the road.
We decided to make our way to the Motown Museum. Along the way, we drove through a neighborhood that seemed to have more semi-collapsed than fully standing ones, so we decided to stop and get some photographs. All joking aside, it is difficult to find words to describe the desolation of the area we were in. It is truly eye opening to see that people within our own country are forced to live in such conditions. Nearly every building had windows shattered and boarded up; several were half burnt the ground filled with debris inside the crumbling walls. We tend to live in a bubble, knowing that there are those who have less than we do, but not really comprehending how bad it really is or how it affects our own lives. As the saying goes, "You are only as strong as your weakest link." Politicians talk of standing together as a nation and uniting, but for the most part it is just talk. It is time for us as a nation really stand up and help each other out, especially in these tough economic times.
We arrived at the Motown museum and were greeted by a highly energetic, singing tour guide, who walked us through the history of the Motown movement, from Marvin Gaye to the Temptations and even Michael Jackson, before he got creepy and morally suspect. Despite the constant pressure to sing along with our tour guide and the motley crew of Brits on the tour with us, it was an awesome experience. Sean reached what some might call a plateau in life when he performed a riveting solo rendition of "My Girl" in the same spot that artists like Stevie Wonder and Marvin recorded their tracks. Move over Diana Ross…
We thought it time to leave after being slightly heckled by the museum employees for living at the Jersey shore, so we departed and decided to have a little lunch in a park, opting for a park overlooking the GM headquarter building after deciding our first choice was about to see a drug deal of some sort go down with some shady characters. We had some delightful tuna sandwiches, played some frisbee, showed our feelings toward GM by flipping off their headquarters, and set off for Lansing, Michigan.
We took a relatively quick detour to touch the third of our five Great Lakes, Lake Huron. We arrived and found a public beach roughly the size of a small living room nestled between two private beaches owned by whom we can only assume are smelly, rich people. We touched the water, took some pictures and defied the rich bastards' "End of Public Beach" signs for a little while before setting off again.
Along the way, we passed by Flint, Michigan, opting not to stop because not only had we seen enough devastation for one day in Detroit, but also because Dan's friends in Lansing promised us a game of laser tag at Zap Zone when we arrived. So onward we pressed, careful not to speed and get pulled over by the Michigan police with their singular, spinning lights on the top of their cars that were vaguely reminiscent of cartoons of old. When we arrived, we marched into battle…
There is only one thing to do after getting owned by the local prepubescent laser tag regulars who take the game just a little bit too seriously, and that is to grab some beers and hang out with some new people. We learned a new drinking game called walnut and started off our roadtrip beer pong record with three solid wins. So after a good night, we woke early the next day, and set off to Chicago…
Will our heroes ever make it to Chicago? Will they ever learn if Chicagonian is what you call a person from Chicago? Will Chi-town's wind live up the hype? Will Dan ever put on pants?! All theses answers and more in our next post….
This post has been brought to you by Walnut, gas masks and Motown.
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