Detroit: 124 international tourists a year…

April 17th, 2011: Detroit city happens to get about 124 international tourists a year. Last week, 3 of those 124 international tourists were friends of mine that stayed with me as I attempted to provide them with a snapshot of Detroit and the surrounding area. Being treated amazing well during my travels in South America by the locals and my friends, it was now my turn to happily host a group.

Detroit is hyped as being one of the most dangerous places in the US. Detroit even made Forbes #1 most miserable city in the US a few years back due to having the highest rate of violent crime and the 2nd highest unemployment rate. This is okay if you are a law enforcement officer such as Robocop or a rapper like Eminem. But, for the average obese Detroit grown native, it is not good if you are too scared to leave the confinement of your very own home, forcing you to watch reality shows while you eat Bon Bons all day as you go about disturbing your twins or girls out of boredom.

During my friends visit, I gave them a whirlwind tour to try to give them a snapshot of Detroit. From shooting handguns (a Colt 45 and a Beretta), visiting a working Ford Motor Company factory to watch the F150 pickup trucks grow up on the assembly line, strolling through some museums and seeing one of the most fascinating parts of Detroit…the modern day roman-like decay.

It was brought to my attention that there was a once fancy theater during the late 1920’s in downtown Detroit, which was barbarically converted into a parking garage. Wanting to gain access, we planned to just walk in but the chain linked gates were locked preventing us from an easy entry.

Heading to the security desk inside the adjoining building, there was a uniformed male security guard sitting at a control desk that was watching over the buildings decaying state. The “female card” was played, having my French friend Cecile ask him about us going in to take some photos, laying on the heavy French accent. The man proved that he was not the stereotypical overly testosterone filled male clouding his intelligence, not falling for our strategy.

The security guard even called us on or weak tactics, noting how we had the girl ask him when there were 3 others…all guys. We were busted, though it did give us a ticket to the 6th floor to see the property manager, Betty (name changed to protect her identity). Even though the “female card” was compromised, we were confident that the “male card” would work to grant us a lawful entry and…it did.

Looking at something like this parking garage was surreal. It is amazing to think that Detroit was once a beautiful thriving city. Throughout most of Detroit you can still see the ruins confirming its current struggles and pasts glory. From the streets that remind you of a modern day ghost town to the industrial areas that look as if it was on the outskirts of an atomic blast, the conclusion can easily be made…Detroit is a...historic dump.

*Please note: Photo of theater (before/after) courtesy of Wikipedia and the Detroit/shooting photos are courtesy of Cecile

Trippin for 1,050 miles (1689.8812 kilometers)

April 3rd, 2011: Just made it back to the Detroit area after completing a staggering short 1,050 mile (1689.8112 kilometer) road trip originating in Lebanon, Illinois…a city that sits outside St. Louis, Missouri, for those non-geographic international wiz kids. For the past few days my friend Cecile and I successfully traveled through a wide variety of flat chested-like landscapes at an exceptionally slow DUI (Driving under Influence) like-speed with no major incidents besides a GPS that went on strike and a cracked windshield.

Being professional tourists, my friend and I visited a plethora of fast-food restaurants, visually bug free Super 8 hotels and a went to a string of cheese fed tourist traps - which include famous strangers’ childhood homes such as the writer Mark Twain’s in Hannibal, Missouri and the suicidal Ernest Hemmingway in Chicago, Illinois. There was even a brief stop in Winterset, Iowa to see the childhood home of the extremely bad Stallone-style acting movie star of the past, John Wayne.

I wonder if I will ever do something so amazing that someone will one day create a foundation and successfully be able to charge a ridiculously priced admission to enter my childhood home, freezing the décor in a year that they think is significant - roping off the bedrooms and bathrooms with some nice bright red impassable felt ropes. My friend kindly informed me that the easiest way to achieve this vision of mine was to become a serial killer. Hmmm…I think I would rather do without the Charley Manson status, keeping my forehead tattoo free.

For the past 10 years I wanted to see the covered bridges of Madison County, which is nestled in Iowa that is known as the Corn State. Now that I was only 7 short hours away from this tourist magnet AND I had a co-pilot that did not own a penis, I thought that this was a good time to see these bridges that were made extra popular from the sappy chick flick, “The Bridges of Madison County.” It starred Clint Eastwood who was a traveling Photographer/Writer for National Geographic and Meryl Streep being the farmers cheating wife.

Staying in Chicago for a couple days, Cecile and I had an unrealistic plan set into motion to maximize our time here. One day, it was to have a museum marathon seeing 3 museums in a row. The first museum we entered to achieve this goal was the Chicago Institute of Art, which was so gargantuan, we barely had enough time to complete the complicated rat maze as we feed on the cheese and rat poison of the art industry. I guess when you are paying $18 USD for an admission ticket, you should expect more than toilet paper, soap and a clean bathroom.

While visiting Chicago, we paid homage to Lloyd Wright while exploring his old former house, who was a once living architect a long long time ago whose decaying houses and buildings can still be seen floating around the United States today.

Finally, if you go to Chicago and do not eat a real North American Pizza – specifically, a Chicago-style deep dish pizza…you are probably a cheese hater or a pasty stinky vegan. We, being neither of the two wanted to taste a piece of Chicago prior to our departure back to the Detroit Area. Seeing the arrival of this pizza at our table, I quickly concluded how the United States can so easily create a grotesquely obese person. I myself could see me in real-time: my stomach inflating, man boobs forming and an almost instantaneous bootie produced after the consumption of this mammoth pizza.

Ending the road trip we reached Detroit in the wee hours of the morning after a necessary pit stop to help keep me from getting ticketed for a DWS (Driving while sleeping). Back at my childhood home, we will be staying at the future site of the “Anthony Supertramp Foundation.” Thankfully now, admission is free from 2 am through 3am…on Sunday mornings.

My son plays the Air Guitar…with his wiener.

March 28th, 2011: It is time for me to leave the St Louis area and get back to tramping around. Before leaving my sisters, I took a moment to reflect on my visit and said goodbye to my furry feline I call my son, whose name is Willie. My last memory of him is not of how he caught me off guard as he gave me a bloody nasal piercing when giving him some tender goodbye hugs. It is the sight that will be etched into my memory for life from the night before when I was laying on the floor with him being 14 inches from my face…as he looked at me with his blackened eyes when he was giving his toy some tender humps - clearly being a sign for me to quickly get out of Willie’s way so that I didn’t get any unexpected money shots.

What was going through my sons head? Is he thinking about his stuffed animal Kermy the frog, or his feather toy that my father would distantly stroke him with the last time I left him for a journey tramping around on the other side of the globe? He seems to even do it now with nothing there. Is this him mixing it up a bit showing his skills on an Air Guitar with his wiener, or is it just exercises for when he is up for bat again?

Willie clearly has no idea on when it is and isn’t appropriate to play his Air Guitar or with his wiener. These actions seem to take place throughout the entire day and it is safe to say that there needs to be an intervention. Though, he is a cat and cats obviously do what they want to do, when they want to AND what they want to, when they want to. So now, when people are over and he is inappropriately mentally sliding into home plate, attempting to achieve his climax…I no longer need to show my friends on how high he can jump – so boring. I can get to show my friends on how well he can play the Air Guitar with his wiener or how much he is able to hump without taking a break. Not every cat owner can entertain his/her guests this way…making Willie…special.

In St Louis I managed surviving the heat, snow, torrential downpours, 233 mph wind and frigid temperatures that the Midwest can somehow bring within a 24 hours timeframe. I had a wonderful time the past few weeks visiting family over here, learning how to play Frisbee golf and even pulled off some new tourist sites - needing to specifically mention the St. Louis City Museum. This museum is more like a giant urban hamster cage/McDonalds play ground, but 1,203,000 times better and 20 time more dangerous. It must have been created by angry parents or hamster owners tired of watching them have all the fun. Good job St. Louis, you will oddly be missed.