I shot a lot of video in Detroit and tried to edit myself somewhat to fit the text. All the same, I used a lot of pictures and there were still some left which I wanted to use as well. So here they are:
Odometer: 86376
I made it out pretty early. Would have been even earlier, but there was cruising to be done at the motel. Seems the “high school/homecoming kid” we’d noticed earlier was (a) a couple of years older than originally pegged, and (b) cruising me really hard. Unfortunately, we never completely connected and we didn’t get to fuck to a background of Judge Judy. Pity…
Southern Michigan is not the most exciting place in the world. There’s Ann Arbor, the cute college town, Battle Creek, the depressed cereal town, and Kalamazoo, the town where I couldn’t stop singing that song about “I got a gal…”
I made it through pretty fast, ate somewhere, and all of a sudden I was in Indiana again. There was cheap gas. There were cheap cigarettes. And I made my way through Gary, the dowdy gateway to Chicagoland just a little too close to rush hour for comfort.
Logistics (OK…money…) kept me from spending any time at all in Chicago. I didn’t even drive through the city since I arrived so late in the afternoon. I flew through the far western suburbs on I-294 and didn’t stop ’til I was in Wisconsin.
Somewhere along the way, I realized I was running a day early, and I was hoping this wouldn’t screw up my chance to meet up with Dave in Milwaukee. Fortunately, it didn’t. We met up at the bookstore where he works part time and were soon joined by boyfriend Doug and roomie Davee. At this point, there were far too many Davids in one room. We survived.
I’m told Milwaukee has more queer bars per capita than any other city in the country. This is a pretty reasonable notion since Milwaukee is traditionally “Beer City USA”. Strange thing is, all of the bars we hit were tiny sleazy little corner bars. Of course, I liked this aspect of the place. There was This Is It, with the big booth an the strange man who wanted to escort me to the bathroom. At C’est La Vie, Dave and Doug won a lovely porn video playing pob-ball. At the Ballgame, there was wood panelling, strange statuary, and a security camera. And there was also this straight bar which I really loved. Cheap beer all around. I really loved that too…
And (again) it was really cool to meet people and instantly feel like old friends. We hung out. We drank beer. We watched demolition video. I was in awe of all the techno toys in the house. I was in awe of all the HOUSE in the house. After Detroit (where I lurked in a house being purchased for an obscenely low price) and Milwaukee, was becoming increasigly impatient with the walk-in closet I call home.
Odometer: 87217
A mildly hungover moring in Milwaukee, cured by a big lunch at a great old-school Italian restaurant. This place was really incredible, with the kind of Italian food I grew up eating (in other words, none of your foofy “light trendy pasta of the month” bullshit…). The host was a classic “mama” of the sort who pinches your cheeks at the table and asks why you didn’t finish everything. Great.
In addition to a tour of the city, I met the neighbor kid, a very out 14-year-old queer who was about to give a class presentation on Truman Capote. I saw the “Laverne and Shirley” building. I saw what used to be the Schlitz brewery. We drove by some Milwaukee resident’s own personal version of the Cadillac Ranch. Pretty interesting place. Milwaukee. I should have given it more time.
It was almost 4:00 by the time I left. I was worn out from too little sleep and too much lasagne. It was starting to rain. I was offered crash space for the night, but I was determined to make it to Minneapolis, so I hit the road.
I got as far as Madison. That big indention in my butt was the result of kicking myself (hard) for being so stupid.
I didn’t even go out in Madison. I checked into the Motel 6 from hell (this place was REALLY bad), got dinner from the sub shop across the street and settled in for some strange voodoo incest movie on HBO, followed by a PBS documentary on the history of the ACLU. All in all, I guess it was a pretty good low-impact rest break. All in all, that’s a pretty good descrition of Madison in general.
Odometer: 87313
Woke up. Visited a couple of thrift stores. Got gas at station near the freeway and wondered at the fact that (other than California and North Carolina), this part of Wisconsin has the odd distinction of being the only place I’ve spent time in each of the past three years.
Finally, I headed west through Eau Claire (more thrift stores) toward Minneapolis and Erik. Of course, I arrived right at rush hour. Minneapolis at rush hour is an ugly thing. Inadequate and badly designed freeways full of incompetent drivers produce really nasty headaches. And Minnesotans, despite being some of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet, are as a group the worst drivers I’ve ever encountered. Anywhere…
Finally, though I arrived at Erik’s office. It was good to see him for the first time since Vegas. He took me home, where I was immediately accosted by a psycho neighbor who wondered if I knew who’d smashed her jack-o-lanterns. Mind you she was not at all concerned that a perfect stranger was walking into the apartment unescorted, but she was pissed about her pumpkins.
Soon we were off to First Avenue to see Meat Beat Manifesto. I was very happy to find an escape in the form of the “annex” next door where the beer was cheaper and the music was better.
Afterward, it was off to the Saloon, and home. There was sex. There was sleep. Boy did I need sleep.
On my morning jaunt to the bank, I was a little alarmed that I couldn’t withdraw money from my checking account even though I should have had plenty of money (OK…”plenty” is too strong a word…) Fortunately, the situation rectified itself by evening. Not being able to get money when you’re almost 2000 miles from home is a bit disconcerting.
Good thing White castle is really cheap…
I managed to nap most of the day after not sleeping too well the night before. I was starting to get reacquainted with that Minnesota allergy thing. Jeez it was nasty. I was stuffy enough to begin with, but the mess increased exponentially every time I got near someone who’d been in contact with a cat in the past, say, three months or so. Of course any first-hand contact wth an actual cat might have proven catastrophic.
Got in touch with Carroll (one of my best friends since 1982) and Bil (an ex-boyfriend, sort of, and friend since 1994). Bil and I drove around a bit, and Carroll and I made plans for Friday.
Erik and I ventured out for a bit of drinking, first at a nice enough neighborhood bar in Loring Park, and then at the Minneapolis Eagle. Interesting place, the Eagle. It’s definitely the “nicest” leather bar I’ve ever seen, that in the sense that it looks like a yuppie sports bar: wood panelling, plush carpet, booths, etc. I couldn’t imagine anything nasty happening (or even being arranged) in this place.
Afterward, there was food at the late-night rock and roll Mexican place. Cute rivethead boy. Free Tootsie Rolls. Not bad…
Headed to Northfield in the afternoon to pick up Carroll and bring her back to Minneapolis. This was the first time we’d seen each other in seven or eight years, but (as usual) we were able to pick up as if no time at all had passed. You can do this with your best friends and not even be surpised by it. This is a good thing.
Back in the city, Carroll checked into the Marriott and did some shopping while I napped on her bed. And then drinking ensued…good old-fashioned hotel room drinking, with eight years worth of collected conversation and an incredible view. Afterward, we fought our way through the strange collection of corridors connecting the hotel, the skyway mall, and the parking garage (oops…I mean parking RAMP).
Dinner at The King and I, a surprisingly good Thai place. Afterward, a little Mastercard-financed Telnetting at the hotel kiosk (Carroll and I having become major nerds since last encounter) and home to bed.
Erik was planning to spend Halloween night seeing Xymox. Thus, it was decided that this would be a great night for me to hang out with Carroll in Northfield. I’ve never been much on Halloween or Xymox. All involved parties seemed relieved.
Actually, we spent the morning in the city, checking out some bookstores and thrift stores, and wishing we had time to visit Murray’s (home of the butterknife steak). Minneapolis and Saint Paul were both victimized pretty badly by urban renewal in the 60’s and 70’s, but a few old sights, like Murray’s, the incredible Foshay Tower, and Dayton’s Department Store can still be seen downtown.
Then it was off to the ‘burbs for some quality time at Target and at the most obscenely huge (and crowded) supermarket I’ve ever seen. I had a car. Carroll needed stuff. I have this strange obsession with grocery stores and have to visit a few everywhere I go. It worked. Trust me. For an afternoon of entertainment, there are few things better than a Minnesota supermarket. With a huge aisle full of cheese. And Count Chocula. And a cute produce clerk giving me the eye…
Back in Northfield, we had dinner at a cool resturant in the basement of an even cooler hotel (neither of whose names I can remember). What I do remember is pretty good food, French dressing (damned near impossible to find in California), and a waitron who wore jeans very well and who reassured us that yes, it was OK to smoke in the smoking section.
Afterwards, there was a quick tour of the stunningly safe (even on Halloween) streets and a stop by the local grocerteria in search for a very special product:
Frank’s Kraut Juice. Contains 100% kraut juice. Ingredients: cabbage juice and salt. Serving suggestion: “chill well and serve icy cold, or blend with equal parts of tomato juice and a squeeze of lemon”. It’s “just naturally good”. I wouldn’t know. I was afraid to try it. But there’s some in my kitchen right now. Maybe on New Year’s Eve…
I also stocked up on Count Chocula and Grape Pop-tarts (also impossible to find in California). We skipped the economy size chocolate pudding. Figured it might keep us awake.