One of Matt's close college friends, Ron, got married in Michigan this weekend, and we made the trip out for the occasion.
We left bright and early on Friday morning, and were through security and eating breakfast sandwiches and drinking Dunkin' iced coffee by 8:30. We were traveling with two other friends, and our flight was on the prestigious and luxurious Spirit Airlines. The seats were tight, but the plane was nice enough and I resisted the urge to ask the pilot the date of the last major engine inspection and if he was prepared to respond appropriately in the event of a bird strike.
I wouldn't say I hate the whole flying experience, because once we are at cruising altitude and the plane is level, I'm a happy camper. But getting up there? I cry REAL TEARS. It is completely ridiculous but I cannot help my terrified self.
I've never liked roller coasters or amusement park rides for the very same reason. The descent isn't the bad part, it's getting to the top that does me in. The last time I rode the log flume I almost climbed out of my log halfway up. I hate it.
Anyway, we survived the flight (no bird strikes!) and we landed in Detroit around 1:00. We took a shuttle to the airport Enterprise location and as we pulled in, our shuttle bus driver proudly announced, "Welcome to Detroit! To thank you for coming to our wonderful city we are offering all Enterprise customers complimentary, one of a kind, Detroit hot dogs!"
And she was right. They were grilling right there in the parking lot.
I'm sure all that jet fuel and car exhaust gave the hot dogs some extra flavor, but we passed.
Instead we stopped at the CVS across from our hotel to pick up some snacks, but what to our wondering, Pennsylvania eyes should appear but liquor! And beer! And a whole aisle of wine ON SALE.
In Pennsylvania you can only buy alcohol at a state store, so seeing it in a CVS was like seeing a unicorn and obviously we indulged.
The bride and groom invited us to their house for pizza and wings on Friday night. They have a beautiful piece of property in an itsy bitsy, teeny tiny town called Pinckney, Michigan. It was about 40 minutes from the hotel, and for the first 35 minutes of our drive, we saw nothing.
No grocery store. No gas station. No police station. No Target.
Just flat land and trees.
And the four of us pretty much talked about "Where does Ron buy food? Where does Ron get gas? How does Ron get cold things home from the nearest grocery store? What happens if Ron forgets a dinner ingredient? Do they even have police where Ron lives?" By the time we got off the exit we were almost ready to stage an intervention and bring Ron back to civilization/suburban Philadelphia, but at that moment we drove past a Kroger, a gas station, a McDonald's, and a chiropractor, and what more could someone really need?
The wedding was happening AT THEIR HOUSE the next afternoon, so we ate our pizza and wings in the tent they had set up in the backyard. I'll tell you what I wouldn't want to do at my house where I would be throwing my own wedding the next day.
Host a bunch of out-of-towners for pizza.
But the bride and groom were so laid back and we had so much fun and I mostly just laughed the whole time because there's not much funnier than a bunch of guys telling college stories. I learned that Matt's buddies didn't believe that I existed at first. They thought Matt made me up to impress them. I also learned he scored a 42 on a Music Listening exam once and may or may not have illegally transported a construction barricade in the backseat of his 1996 Chevy Prism.
We left around 9 so we could navigate back through the Michigan wilderness to the hotel before it got too late. We made it back safely even though the GPS was giving directions like, "In .2 miles, turn left on Plant Trucks."
Michigan is strange.
I'm going to continue this in a part 2, because evidently I have a lot to say about Michigan.