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10 July 2006 @ 02:59 pm
Captain's Log -Summer Travel #3- Michigan  
Day One

The first day of traveling always sucks.

Up at 5, we stumble into the car and whine about things we a) have forgotten b) havent packed enough of c) havent eaten.

Sleep on the car ride to the airport is not an option.

The airport is, as always is, generally unpleasant. The crew (familia), already tired from late-nite packing and a hectic morning, is irratable and likely to bite your head off.

We stumble through the airport, we've been through so many airports so many times before that this one is just another big ugly blur.

Nothing to eat.

Board plane.

Sleep in uncomfortable positions and awake sore and in Detroit.

Airport.

Blah blah blah...

2 hour wait before we acquire our rent-a-car (which is like a small bus, except for more cramped)

Thank goodness for word association games.

Hungry, but on our way, we stop at a McDonalds.

The first fast food i've had in over 10 months.

The restaurant (?) is packed, smelly, workers are slow and get orders all wrong. We discover that the smell is coming (no joke, you can ask my mother) from an old man who has, as my youngest sister so eloquently put it, "made dumps in his pants."

Sickening. My mum waits in the car. (she has a weak stomach)

"Welcome to Michigan"

Time for our 5 hour car drive in a cramped van to our lake house.

The first 3 hours are filled with my brothers and my raucous singing as we switch headphones from one ipod to the other, listening to classics such as Bohemian Raphsody, Changes, Ballroom Blitz, and the entirety of the St. Pepper's album (to name a few...)

Mum loses it somewhere between thte first round of the chorus and second verse of Sex Pistols' "anarchy in the U.K."

No more singing.

Jeremy falls asleep. I finish "The Heart is Deceitful Above All Things" and adore every word (thank you Jenny Ko!)

I feel sick and my stomach churns, full of unwanted grease and faux fried potatoes.

Thank you Canada Dry...

More word association games. We get lost, drive through hick ville hoping we're lost (and making rude comments which make mum cover her smile to keep up appearances) and finally discover our house on the bank of lake something or other in what seems to be the farthest corner from most civilized society.

First impression of the house: Quaint.

Upon second glance: Interior decoration was placed in the hands of one L.I. Wilder back when porcelain chickens were all the rage.

Further exploration: Evern seen "secret window" ?

Final conclusion: I love it here.

I can deal with horrible interior design. There is a hammock, a large back porch, a pier/dock thing, a croquet set, a piano, numerous game closets and an evil dog living next door.

This house is "boxcar children" worther.

The lake is freezing, the deck is falling apart and the grass is real grass.

My brother and i make a documentary about a pirate (i star)

Weather was gray upon arrival. Now (aprx. 8:15 PM) it is gorgeous.

Lazy white clouds, blue sky, clear water lapping at the bank.

The works.

I'm out on the hammock generally enjoying life.

Jeremy's being a bother, so I'm going to find something to eat.

(con't)

After dinner, the pirate's truce was interrupted by a rather vicious war involving all children, hoses, croquet mallets and very cold well water.

Needless to say, I emerge from this battle cold, soaked, and generally pissed at jeremy.

The truce was off.

At around 9:30, now in dry clothes (but still irritable) we head into one of the nearby towns, the closest of which is 20 min away, in search of ice cream.

And oh did we find ice cream.

One of those great little family owned shoppes that's been in buisness since the 1880s. So yea, these guys know their shit.

It's also a confectionary.

Oh. My. God.

I had a strawberry shake. Soooo good!

We wend home, happy and whatnot and fell asleep (it was like 11 and we'd all been up since 5 and had traveled too much to enjoy staying awake much longer)

END DAY ONE
 
 
Current Location: some random internet cafe
Current Mood: relaxedrelaxed
Current Music: cafe music (bad)