Last week a business trip landed me and two of my friends in Marquette, MI. I was in Chicago literally the day before and words cannot describe the cultural shift. The locals were unlike any I’ve encountered on this planet. Our first night at the bar, I met Rosie. Rosie is a man. A little man with a goatee and breath that could kill a horse. So darn likable though. He insisted he was a lover not a fighter and showed me a newspaper picture of the “best looking man in town”. It was a picture of him for his engagement and I believe the paper was two years old. Hold on to that 15 minutes of fame for all it’s worth buddy.
Rosie was the picture of normalcy though, compared to Goggles. A guy about my age wearing ski goggles, a Panama City jacket and a green beret approached and said I looked familiar. I told him I get that a lot. He then asked if we were once comrades. I asked if this possibly could have been in another life. He confirmed that, yes, in fact it was. Apparently we fought side by side in both World Wars I and II, just as we will again in World War III. I was also relieved to learn that after World War VI there will be three thousand years of peace. Don’t go liquidating that 401K just yet.
I had yet to see Goggles take a sip of alcohol and was going to ask if he had perhaps smoked an illegal substance, but then he left me and went over to the pool table. There he and Rosie proceeded to do Kung Fu and somersaults on the floor. I asked the bar tender if this was normal. He said pretty much, but also Goggles was off his medication. When on his meds he was actually a laid back nice guy. Personally though I was glad Zoloft hadn’t robbed me of a preview for the next four world wars. I should make a killing on the spread.
Marquette is not the town that time forgot. It is the town time never knew existed. No one even knows what day it is. We asked the cab driver if there was anything to do that night. He said Sunday nights were pretty dead. It was Monday. I told the hotel clerk we would be checking out in three nights. She confirmed check out would be Wednesday night. Actually no that would be Thursday, but it was in the right ballpark. We met at least three more people who either didn’t know or were a day off. The scary thing is by the end of the trip we were staring to lose track ourselves. Eventually it became Thurinesday.
The locals are not without a sense of humor though. We were informed that although we were from down state, we could become official Yoopers with a simple initiation called the “One Eyed Keith”. We agreed and the bartender poured Crown Royal into the shot glasses. No problem as CR is our beverage of choice. However the shot took a hard left turn when the bar tender placed a pickled egg in each shot glass, then topped it with tobasco sauce. I asked how does one drink an egg. They instructed us to do the shot then eat the egg. We did just that and the egg was suprisingly tasty. I think the locals were a bit diappointed we didn’t struggle more, but I admit a few minutes later the tabasco made it feel like someone had ripped duct tape off my lips. The next night we asked other locals if they’d ever heard of a One Eyed Keith, but no one had. Yup, we got played dere, eh!
On Wednesday night we were going to leave when suddenly Marquette became winter wonder hell. 13 inches of snow and 30 MPH winds prevented us from going five feet in any direction. We asked the locals what we should do. One bartender suggested we go surfing the next day. I asked if he meant snowboarding, but no he meant actual surfing on Lake Superior. It was ten degrees out but that didn’t stop them from hanging ten. The bartender’s friend had been slammed into a breaker the day before, but didn’t kill him and even earned him a spot on the morning news. What is wrong with these people??
Most of the locals told us to just go back to the hotel and “bunker down, eh.” The thought of another day in this icy prison was unbearable though. Our saving grace came in the form of a Jimmy John’s employee. He told us of a secret highway the state police had not closed off. We hit the ground running and managed to cross the Mackinac Bridge just hours before the shut it down. Apparently high wind was swinging it 27 feet. Best not to think about it now.
If I ever have to go back to Marquette, the first thing I will do is look up Goggles. The night we met he was out in the parking lot near my friend’s car which has a remote start. After fifteen minutes of running, the engine will automatically shut off. However, Goggles informed us that he had in fact shut off the engine with his psychic energy. I haven’t figured out how to capitalize on this power of his yet, but I know I can make it pay off. I’ll also be stocking up on pickled eggs to get us through WWIII.