Up in Michigan

I spent this past weekend in Michigan at my friend Meg’s family’s Lake house. Not that I have any complaints about Chicago, or anything I feel the need to “get away” from, but it was a pleasant escape to a scenic and fun spot.

Of course, it wouldn’t be an adventure without its fair share of mishaps. Marie and I set out around noon, expecting a quick hour and a half drive. The directions seemed straight forward enough.

By the time we were passing Sox stadium we had already been in the car for 45 minutes due to traffic. But that was nothing compared to the gridlock we got into once we were in Indiana. I just kept wondering to myself where all the people could possibly be going.

And though my first impression of Gary, Indiana, from the drive out to Chicago, was enough to make me never want to go back, we made the command decision to get off at the city’s exit to get gas, regroup, stock up on provisions, etc. I ended up getting some alternate directions from one of the guys who worked in the rest stop, and after weighing the options (sitting for God knows how long in bumper-to-bumper traffic or following the advice of a strange man and risking getting lost in the neighborhoods of smelly Gary) I decided on the latter. The scenery that followed will not soon be forgotten. We passed all variety of yard sales (including Bernie’s, which exclusively sold lawn ornaments), billboards screaming advertisements for the “Cheapest Cigarettes Around,” and buildings that claimed to be real estate agencies that were themselves foreclosed upon, to name a few.

Four hours after our Chicago departure, we arrived at Meg’s. But, the thirty-six hours that followed—from meeting her charismatic and hilarious relatives, to attending a party in a sand dune, to the 4 am dance party complete with conga line, to the marathon team effort at solving the NY Times Crossword puzzle, to communally devouring seven 14-inch long subs with her cousins—were well worth the long and frustrating drive. 

The whole scene reminded me of the movie Dirty Dancing. It was the kind of simple, outdoorsy, wholesome family-fun, type place that is, I think, very hard to come by. When it came time to leave last night—after watching an unforgettable sunset—I was surprised to find myself resisting return to bustling Chicago and my not-so-busy life there. It was almost like a time warp that I wasn’t quite ready to leave.