Pure F$%&king Michigan!

In our youth, my friends and I took many a guy trip to exotic destinations like Wisconsin, Missouri, and Tennessee (they're these whole other states). Getting away from home, and especially authority figures for a few days at a time was important to our young, adventurous spirits. Every trip was filled with memories that we still tell today, to anyone that will listen. There was however a lapse. It dawned on me when my fiance was planning a gal trip to Vegas that I had not been on a vacation without female companionship in six fucking years. How could this have happened? Careers, significant others, and overall growing apart was at fault. So, partially out of spite but more out of fear of being bored and alone that weekend, I said to a potato I was peeling: "Fuck it. I'm taking a trip too."

Galien is a tiny town in the middle of pure-fucking-Michigan nowhere. Somewhere in that nowhere is Dayton lake. Somewhere on Dayton lake is a house that some nice family rents out for nice couples retreats and other nice family vacations. It can sleep twelve grown men, has a nice yard, boat dock complete with canoe and rowboat, a nice balcony deck, pool table, big-screen color television, card table and fire pit. These features caught the attention of Joe Legions, who then inquired about renting it for our weekend. Not wanting to make an issue out of the great likelihood that they would return to a smoldering pile of ash that had once been their lovely lake home, Joe lied to these fine people, and they were happy to share their home with the four newlywed couples Joe promised them.What arrived instead were nine twenty-something men and over 300 cans of domestic beer.

Another sacrifice.

Imagine the most stereotypical man-cation possible, then intoxicate and caffeinate the man in that -cation, and you can begin to form a better understanding of the weekend. There was poker, tobacco, drinking, fishing, binge-eating, shouting, fires, bear-baiting* and all around recklessness. At some point in the weekend we were just running around and throwing things, including large pieces of lumber and stones. Everything turned into a game. Mike LaGrasse balances a beer atop his head, and lo we have William Tell football.The yard looked like some drunken field day.

Despite all of the debauchery, we all noticed some semblance of adulthood throughout the trip. For one thing, we ate regular meals together. We decided to only drink beer, although a lot of it, to avoid crippling hangovers. We were civil with one another, even while drunk. We didn't squable about money. And despite the high risk for utter destruction, the only thing ruined were a few colons. The house was trashed, make no mistake, but vacations of the past had us handing over security deposits for rented spaces that looked like Motley Cru had stayed there. When it was over, we all pitched in to clean up, and it took surprisingly little time.

And we had recycled most of it.

Calm before the storm.

Some of the highlights of the trip include:

Catching almost no fish, despite Mike claiming, "I'm gonna catch a fish so big that I'm scared of it!"

Dragging a small forest worth of timber from the "Woodmine" to feed an enormous fire.

Myself, Joe and Jim swinging on the swingset (further evidence that the house is intended for families) in an attempt to tip it over.

Joe and Mike failing over and over to row into shore before realizing that the anchor was still out.

Rosas throwing rock in a game of odds-and-evens.

"Boneshadow"- Random nick name somehow bestowed upon Rosas. We then began to sing a song to the tune of Cat Stevens' "Moonshadow" about it.

 

"That guy must have went to MITT Tech."

 

"There can be only one Thailander!"

"When I was your age you could get a gallon of homo for a dollar."

Andy's Grocery. More on this: The nearest shop was a few miles away, and almost certainly a front for a meth lab. The proprietor (I'm assuming Andy) was near toothless, and his shop was in complete disarray. It was like being in a Twilight Zone episode- Bologna over a year past expiration, homemade six packs of beer with little post-it labels on them, completley random merchandise (like a disproportionate amount of Precious Moments figureines), and all kinds of shit hoarded in the back that was overflowing into the store. In fact, it was hard to tell what Andy was trying to sell. I'm assuming that if I made him an offer on any of the many decades old Apple computers or microwaves he had, we could reach an agreement though. And of course, he only took cash. It is at Andy's that the photograph displaying milk prices at left was taken. I understand what homogenized milk is, but I would be surprised if Andy did. 


 This trip will go now as one of the best times of my life. Everything was perfect from the people to the weather. Thanks to everyone who came along (Joe, Mike, Jonathan, Rosas, Derek, Jim, Muse and Brandon). This trip feels like the end of an era. As we all get older and get closer and closer to getting women pregnant, these trips will be harder to make happen. The best advice I can give my readers (aside from not eating Buffalo Wild Wings three nights in a row) is to make an effort to make something like this happen for you and yours. Plan it out as far in advance as you need, but see it done. I'm already stoked for Cooperstown 2017.

*  There wasn't any bear-baiting.