Fear And Loathing In Ann Arbor, MI

It was the middle of November in Michigan. The day was cold with a gray sky looming overhead. We were on the verge of leaving fall and entering the god awful winter of the north. There were four of us headed from Holland to Ann Arbor, a three and half hour trip across the state, from one coast to the other.
To protect the guilty, I will change the names of my three cronies. We will call them Nick, Brent, and Tim. The three amigos were broke. Money wasn't an issue for me however, and I needed these three in order to make the trip complete. So I handed each of them $100 and we were off.
We were leaving Holland when we realized that we needed gas. In order to conserve our money, we decided to steal gas. Now there is almost an art to stealing gas. Let me tell you it is not just as easy as pulling in, filling up, and leaving. You have to have a game plan.
We pulled over before the station and removed the license plate. We then pulled up to the gas tank, everyone wearing shades on this dull, overcast day. Brent, who was driving, got out and started filling up. Usually when you are done filling up, you leave the gas nozzle on the ground so that the employees don't realize that you are done pumping. It can easily buy you another minute for your escape. Brent forgot this golden rule and placed the nozzle back in its home, and took off like a bat out of hell. Fortunately for us it did not matter.
When pulling a crime off of this nature, you tend to go through a fit of laughter. Uncontrollable and beast like noises bellow out of your face. The veins and blood vessels in your head feel like they will burst. The stomach feels as if it is cramped. I love the feeling of a good hard laugh.
We were close to the border of the neighboring county. When we crossed the line, we hopped out and put the license plate back on the car. We were safe from the man and out of harms way. We were now Ann Arbor bound but we needed to stop for some strong drink.
We stopped and purchased a fifth of whiskey and stole a 2 liter of Coca Cola. We probably would have stolen the Jack Daniels if it weren't for the fact that it was behind the counter. Now we could make this boring journey across the flat, farm lands of Michigan.
The day that we arrived in Ann Arbor just happened to be the day of the Wolverines/Ohio St. Buckeyes game. If you aren't familiar with college sports, this is one of the biggest rivalries in all of sports. Ohio St has Michigan's number and they did that day as well, in the Big House.
We pulled into town with an empty fifth of whiskey and a strong desire to burn the locals. Screaming Ohio St. rules at the top of our lungs, from the safety of the car, was a good way to get everyone's attention. There was a mob of students chasing the car and throwing objects like chocolate milk, among other things, at the vehicle.
At one point we reached a red light and were forced to stop. A young Asian man opened the passenger side door. He tried to reach for yours truly. I pushed the savage bastard back, screamed a racial slur, and then the light turned green.
Bored and waiting for our female friend, Callie, to get out of work, we pulled over and decided to wrestle each other on the side of the road. People were driving by slowly like we were crazed zoo animals who had escaped captivity. We were the roadside attraction.
Feeling fatigued and drained from wrestling, it was time to get more booze and meet up with Callie. She had prepared 30 jello shots and they were waiting to be devoured. By the time we left her place to meet up at the bar with our other friend, Verde, we had eaten every one of those lethal treats. It was bar time.
I can't say that I remember much of the ride to bar. I can't speak for the three stooges, but I can't recall any of it. It's during black outs when the true animal surfaces. The body operates on instinct. A man becomes one with his inner beast.
However, I do remember walking into the bar. The place was packed full of our nation's young minds getting wasted and killing their brain cells. Some of the Wolverines were sitting in the back drinking and going over what had gone wrong that day.
It was getting late and last call was coming soon. Verde informed us that there was not much alcohol at his place. This presented a problem. We needed our medicine and were not about to go without it. Looking over at the bar, I spotted what looked to be a full case of Bud Light bottles sitting unattended.
This was going to be a well planned mission. I would grab the case of beer when the bartender was facing the other direction. Someone would walk in front of me to block the case and part the crowd of students. Breaking through these pack of wild dogs was not going to be a simple task. I needed a little bull. I needed Brent.
Brent parted the way and moved fast. He was working out perfectly until he lead me down the hallway to the bathrooms. There were two hallways that were side by side. The one on the left lead to the bathrooms and the one on the right lead to freedom. We had to backtrack. Walking back towards the bar and the crowd of drunken students, we pulled a u-turn and went down the hallway that lead to the street. We made it. It was time to wind down and drink in a safe place. Of course we wouldn't be at Verde's for long before we had the itch to go out.
Brent and Nick left for pizza and never came back. This left Verde, Tim, and myself with nothing to do. We could stay and hang out with Verde's liberal minded roommates from all four corners of the world, or we could go out and cause some chaos.
Verde was leading us to his old fraternity house when I suddenly changed my mind. His roommates may have been the kind of people who despised me and my Republican views, but a couple of them were females, and I was confident that my conservative ideas would not interfere with my chances. I headed back after fighting off Tim and Verde. They started dragging me when I told them about my change of heart...Bastards.
I was back on Verde's road when I realized I had forgotten which house was his. The fear of being lost suddenly hit me. I did not own a cell phone at the time and looking back I wish I had. I had to be in Detroit the next day to watch the Lions/Giants game and now I couldn't remember which fucking house was Verde's. I started walking around and randomly stopping people who had cell phones. I would explain my situation and then they would let me use them. However, nobody was answering their phones.
After awhile I realized I wasn't even on Verde's road anymore. Now I was really lost. I would head to the nearest hotel and work out all this bullshit in the morning. It was beginning to snow for the first time and all I wanted was a warm place to lie my head down.
There are three hotels in Ann Arbor and every one of them was full. I had forgotten that the big game was the same day. I thought to myself, "That's it, I'm fucked. I'll have to sleep outside on the first cold night of the year." I could picture gangs of drunken rugby players finding me and beating the shit out of me because they thought I was a bum. I had to get indoors.
There weren't many options when I came across a sign that read Hospital this way. I could walk in, sleep in the emergency room lobby. If anyone woke me up, I would make something up and split. The hospital was enormous, and it took me an hour to walk around the building to reach my destination. Upon entering, a large, black, security guard stopped me and asked me what I was doing there. I responded, "My sister is in there. She's sick and it's urgent that I get in there. Thank you very much for your concern."
Six hours later I awoke with a stiff neck and sore back from lying on the hospital furniture but I was warm. It was 10:00 A.M. I still had to find my friends and make it to Detroit which was an hour away by car. I wondered through town until I found a bar/restaurant. I ordered a Bloody Mary and was denied because it was before noon on a Sunday(state law). This experience couldn't get any worse. I was in purgatory, I knew it. Somewhere during all of the madness I died during a black out.
Borrowing the bartender's phone, I called every person I knew to help me reach one of the savage pricks who I had come with. Finally, Tim's girlfriend reached Tim. I ordered some food and waited patiently. Never have I been happier to see Tim. When he walked through the door of the restaurant I thought he was an apparition. I told myself, "You're hallucinating you fool." But I wasn't. He and Callie took me to her place. Nick and Verde were already in Detroit.
Fortunately, Brent drove me to Detroit, drinking and driving about 100 mph the whole way. I had finally made it to Detroit. It was my first time there, and I realized why everybody called it a shit hole. I had only missed half of the first quarter and my friends waited for me so that I could get my ticket from them.


*Nick, Brent, and Tim are the real names of my three cronies, by the way, for those of you who don't know them.
*Fact: The Giants went on to win the Superbowl that year.
*Fact: The Lions lost that game. Not a big surprise.
*Tim also got lost and slept outside on a random porch. He was awakened by Verde's girlfriend. She just happened to live in the house where Tim had fallen asleep on the porch.
*Nick and Brent never made it back to Verde's. They were also lost and just happened to come across Callie's apartment by chance.

Strippers

I am a man with many vices. Even as a child, I knew that there wasn't much hope for myself. Many hours of my childhood were spent daydreaming about drinking, drugging, and sleeping with women. Perhaps I lack values, or maybe I am just hard wired to be a savage prick. It's probably safe to say that I'm on a highway to hell. This highway that I am on leads me right to my sanctuary...the strip club.
The strip club is actually a very unique place, and not because of the fact that the girls are in their birthday suits. There is a certain freedom that one feels upon entering the club. A feeling that no matter what happens in this life, everything is going to be OK as long as young, beautiful girls are willing to dance nude.
There is a strange sense of honesty that a man shares with an exotic dancer. The stripper craves money and the man craves a naked, warm body. There is no hiding the truth. Anybody who thinks that these girls are going to fall in love them is simply lying to themselves. However, it is very easy to fall in love with them, with trashy names like Jasmine, Star, and Angel. Who wouldn't fall in love?
The female body is the most precious thing on the planet, more than money, diamonds, or power. I see nothing wrong with women dancing in the buff. In fact, I think that if there were more strip clubs people might be happier. Imagine what would happen if we opened up a chain of strip clubs in the Middle East. Sure, some of them would get bombed, but after awhile the Arabs would jump on board. Spreading Democracy through strippers, I like that. In a world full of violence a man should be staring at a couple of breast, not thinking about how fucked we are.