Dispatches From the Midwest, Issue 9

Thursday, 6 March: Morning

To me, it’s maybe just a little miraculous that I’m able to rise so early the next morning, but there’s nothing for it; I have a long road trip in front of me. I need to make my way from Central Indiana to Central Michigan, and I have to be there before noon.

So as the weak, wintry sun rises over the fields and forests, it sheds light on Optimus Prime and me, both of us charging resolutely forward. The next portion of the trip is the one that’s going to be the  most interesting and unpredictable: I’m going to meet one of my Internet friends  In Real Life (IRL). I’ve met plenty of people through Craigslist and Meetup and the like, but never before have I crossed state lines to initiate contact. Should I be alarmed that this sounds something like a crime?

Thursday, 6 March-Friday, 7 March

Fortunately, my friend does not turn out to be a serial killer, or even a socially awkward person, and we spend a couple of pleasantly unremarkable days together. We read, we write, we watch Frozen and Rush, we drink a lot of wine. I dimly recall gleefully (and drunkenly) swatting at wickedly sharp icicles hanging from eaves, in order to keep them from lobotomizing unsuspecting pedestrians.

I also begin to realize to never, ever take high quality sushi or authentic Mexican food for granted again. Middle America, I love you, but there are some gastronomical delights you simply should not attempt to offer the world. We’re not ready. And neither are you.

Mount Pleasant, Michigan: who says there aren't any mountains?