My friend Joseph Daniel (name changed, surely no one will crack this code) is getting married this spring and so he gathered all his friends and people he had to invite (former co-workers from states he no longer lives in and future brothers-in-law) to pay for him to drink a lot, gamble a lot and eat a lot. Great deal for the rest of us, trust me.
I'm not going to lie to you, when I signed up for this I was expecting a casino in Vegas. What I got was a Holiday Inn across the Detroit River in America's Hat. Same thing? Not quite. I was booking my flight and scoping out where I would watch the NCAA tournament when the bombshell was dropped on me. It was tough digesting that I would be driving for 3 hours through northern Ohio instead of seeing Don Ho's replacement and watching Charlotte on 40 screens dominating the NCAA tournament (let's not talk about that one).
Needless to say, my excitement level was not through the roof. Maybe not even through the floor. But, I was getting paid to watch basketball, drink beer and not be at work. I'd say that's a fair trade for me. Couple that with low cost of living (hotel room was only $45 for 2 days) and public transportation (my wonderful girlfriend's mother practically gave me a plane ticket and I didn't have to drive anywhere for 4 days) and at least it wasn't an expensive jaunt.
When I got to Columbus, it seemed normal enough. Big city, they love the Buckeyes (no accounting for taste), and the bars all served beer and fried food. No sweet tea, but I knew what I was getting into there. We watched college basketball (Go A-10), drank, watched college basketball and drank. I also got to meet one of my gears of war cohorts and see his Miami Medical promo. He gets coffee for one of the guys that produces it, so keep him employed by watching it! [/end free advertising]. Only negative so far, having to wake up at 4 am to catch my plane. I'm ahead of the curve. Oh, and I found out that I had closed the door to the litter box, so apparently the cats had taken to using our closet as their new one. Whoops, sorry sweetie!
That was the initial good. Then came the reality bad. I had to ride 3 1/2 hours through northern Ohio to Detroit. I honestly thought the badlands were in the Dakotas. What an awful place. Cornfields and dead factories. Cornfields mostly. I'd consider myself a slightly above average traveller, but anytime I visit the Midwest I find plenty of reasons not to come back, but I definitely understand why they have such a fertile punk scene. Who couldn't be disaffected living there?
At least the company was good. I was fortunate enough to be riding in the back seat with a Xavier grad. A-10 was out in full force (Also met a URI grad on the trip. Reppin' hard core). I was in the Brother-in-Law car. I am twice over a brother-in-law so I fit right in, even if I had no relation to anyone in the bridal party. We made a quick drive through Bowling Green (which we would visit on the return). We listened to a couple of games in the car, Cincinnati has a powerful AM radio station, and stopped at a Mickey D's on the road.
Normally I don't make it a habit to stop in fast food joints when I'm touring the US of A, but I have got to say they don't make McD's in NC like they do in Ohio. This place had HDTVs and a gas fireplace. What? TVs, okay I've seen that before. But this place had at least 2 big screens and a fire blazing. It was spotless too. Maybe I've been out of the FF game too long, but I did not expect it.
That was the only real point on interest on the ride up until we got to customs. We had two options, bridge or tunnel. Who knew Canada and NJ were the same thing? We were going tunnel but made an ED (that's executive decision) at the last second to go bridge. Normally if you asked me if I would rather see a wall or Detroit, the option would be easy, but I was pleasantly surprised at how pretty the view from the Ambassador Bridge is:
Now, this must just be a Canadian (maybe even just a Windsor) thing, but I was quick to notice it. The women in uniform are hot. I'm talking more dimes than Scrooge McDuck's vault. Our customs lady was very abrupt, very rude and very hot. We had to turn on the AC to get through the gate. She also couldn't wait to get rid of us. Didn't even let us finish our questions before she pushed us through. I imagine it was because we looked a reputable sort (save my unibomber photo in my passport). The other car following was not so lucky, but that may be because their driver fumbled over questions like nationality and "Do you have anything to declare?"
Ahh, scenic Windsor. If you've never been, I don't blame you. But our venture was not quite over and so onward we went to the Holiday Inn! JD (the groom to be, in case you forgot) and the BIL posse parked at the front counter. Mr. Xavier and I were eager to see how the Mousekateers were fairing in tournament play, but we had to check in first. Luckily the hotel was in a prime location, we had a bar RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET featuring everything you could ever want and more, the Crazy Horse Saloon! I was disheartened that we didn't stop in, but we did have to check in.
We had three rooms reserved for 12 guys:
"Hotels.com said that each room would have 2 queens."
"We don't have any rooms like that."
"What do the rooms have?"
"One king."
"Oh."
They sure weren't kidding about that either. Luckily I had had 4 hours to bond with my roommates, cause this was gonna be like some kind of sick college suite. We went into our rooms and cut on the TV waiting for the rest of the Columbus party to arrive (4 more of the 12 total). The A-10 was doing their A-terrible routine again. At least Xavier had come to play. We contemplated stealing a chair from one of the other rooms so that we'd have space for the four of us in our room. That plan never came to fruition, but something better was just around the corner.
Once the second car arrived we decided to head over to the Caesar's Palace to get our gamble on. And by we I mean everyone other than me. I am cheap, I hate losing and this recession, well you know. But on the way to the elevator (that required use of a room key, we were on the executive floor, nothing but the best, you know), I spied a cot in the hallway all bundled up unused. "Hey," I said to myself, "What better use for this than to sit in our room and give us all a place to sleep!" I'm sure it was reserved for some other happy camper and one of the wheels was a little busted, but JD's older BIL was surely appreciative.
We walked the 3 blocks or so to Caesar's Palace (featuring Whoopi, doesn't get much better than that) and I got a table at the sports book. The beer wasn't a total rip off (shocker) but the food was way over priced and I learned a harsh lesson. The food in Windsor is just awful. Not only was it about 15 dollars too much, it made me yearn for the McDonald's in Nowhere, OH. And I ate in this place twice. Glutton for punishment or just a moron? You decide.
During the mid-afternoon break, we made our way back over to the hotel to get ready for the night games both on and off the court. I watched the one game and half of the last party arrived. I failed to mention earlier that some members of our party had gone Motley Crue on the last (and at that time unoccupied) room and left all sorts of fun presents for the last to arrive. Apparently, no one staying in that room was happy about it.
We also found our hotel had been taken over. Now, I'm from the south. I'm used to life being integrated, but I recognize that the Midwest is not so fortunate. This hotel was swarming with Jamaicans and it caught all of us off guard. It was definitely a change from how white bread the whole trip had been so far. It, however, did not surprise me as much as it did when I asked them where they were from. "Toronto." Did not expect that.
We went back to a bar to watch the late games and we got to play Canadian bar bowling. You only get one ball per frame. It is also clearly rigged as I had a lead the entire game until the last frame and I had my only gutter ball. What is that about? I think there were also 12 frames or something. I don't know, I was drunk. It was fun and only cost me a loony or two. Canada is the biggest European poser I've ever seen. It was like being in the European Detroit.
The best part about all the bars on a Friday night was how easy it was to get service. I never had to wait to get a drink.
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Got it?
Somewhere along the way we ran into another one of my Gears cohorts (there were a total of 4 of them on this trip) who had brought his Vietnamese friend that knew absolutely no one. He was good people though, I'm pretty sure he bought me a drink and I am definitely sure I didn't return the favor. They had driven in from Cleveland, so I'm sure it felt like they were still at home. The night's only other real highlight was a double rally (meaning he managed to do it twice) by the oldest member of our party.
Sometime after the bars closed, a handful of us (my memory is a little hazy) decided to make a run at the casino. We walked in and discussed strategy. Turns out the strategy for me and two of my new friends was to head back to the hotel and pass out. I went back into the hotel room with the Russian (who was actually Ukrainian) and the eldest was already passed out on the cot. We each claimed one half of the King sized bed and were small enough that we never came close to touching. Sounds like a win for everyone but the groom, who was either getting the chair or the floor. But we'll get to that part soon.
I woke up around 8 am the next morning. When I drink a lot, I sleep like the dead. But unless I'm really ripped I can't sleep for more than 5 hours. I only got mildly ripped the night before so I was hungover but not dead. I was also starving. I managed to get out of bed around 8:45 and walked into a hallway that reeked of pot. Pretty much anytime of day if I took the stairs there was someone smoking pot. The whole hotel was infested with roaches. I think I got a contact high on the elevator.
I made my way to the front desk to ask if there were any diners in town. I was determined to not eat more awful Canadian food. FC lady said there was a restaurant in the hotel (yeah, like I wanted spend $7 for a bowl of oatmeal) but there were no diners in town. Luckily there was another woman working and she told me there was a place called Biscuits and Gravy in town and they specialized in southern food. 'That sounds an awful lot like a diner,' I told myself.
After a little wandering around downtown Windsor, I found my destination. They had just opened, perfect timing! I examined a menu that featured eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy, cheese grits, you name it. I asked the waitress if the ham was country ham, and she gave me a blank look. Oh you poor Canucks! Or should I say you lucky Canucks cause that stuff is awful. She called upon the chef, who was very clearly an American and he informed me that country ham was a delicacy they just couldn't get in Canada. I told him to just pour a bag of salt on his regular ham, problem solved!
The restaurant (which until recently was known as the Downtown Diner) had pictures all along the walls of historic Windsor. Lots of awesome old buildings, a really cool hotel, parks, you name it. The best part?! They had all been torn down and cement blocks were in their place. Now I saw why this was a tourist's dream vacation!
The food was actually solid and the waitress was really friendly. She told me all about her family and asked me my life story. She also gave me about 15 cups of coffee. Thinking I was cured of the horrible malady known as a hangover, I informed my waitress of my plan to go back to the heated pool at our hotel and get a few laps in. It really seemed like a good idea to go swimming at the time.
Boy am I ever stupid. I don't know how many of you have ever gone swimming with a hangover, but it is about the worst possible way to detox. I got to the swimming pool and gingerly lowered myself in. So far, so good. I splashed around a little bit, went under water, you know got acclimated. Then I went for the first lap. Seriously like my temples were the Berlin wall circa 1989. Now an intelligent person would realize that swimming more laps would only exacerbate the problem. Instead, I would prop myself up on the side of the pool, take about 2 hours for the pain to pass and then swim another lap. Chlorine rinse and repeat. I did that about 15 times before I finally just gave up. We may have only been in Canada 2 days in mortal time, but in hangover time it was at least 3, maybe four. And I spent one of those days swimming laps in the pool (Navin Johnson time).
After my refreshing workout, I took the elevator back to our executive floor and ran into the driver of the other car (you know, the one who got them detained at customs). He was the only other person alive at this point and he was going downstairs to get breakfast. I figured it would be better to spend time with other people since this was a party and nobody likes a wallflower so I went back to my room, changed and met him downstairs. This is how I found out a cup of oatmeal cost $7 in Canadaland.
We talked a little about college basketball (he was the only Ohio State fan, in a group of Ohio State fans, that actually attended tOSU) and about how ridiculous last night was. He told me that the groom had ended up passing out on his floor somewhere around 7 am when they got back from the casino. He also told me that he had ended up in a king sized bed with two of the king sized members of our group. There are many things in life I am jealous of, his sleeping arrangement will never be one of them.
We paid (2.50 for a cup of coffee, c'mon Canada) and went back upstairs. It was inching toward lunchtime and people were slowly waking up. I showed someone the diner where I had enjoyed the only good food I would eat in this godforsaken place. The waitress asked me how my swim was. I lied and told her it was great! I called my girlfriend and found out she had two flat tires. She just wasn't having a good weekend. Right before I left our washing machine's motor burned out also.
Back at our rooms, 80% of our group was back from the dead so we did what any normal people would do after binging. We went back to the casino, watched basketball and started drinking. I had promised my girlfriend that I would gamble the $25 she gave me and I held up my end of the bargain. I bet on a 4 game parlay: WVU covering, KSU covering, UK covering and UNM being a one point dog to 11 seed Washington. I hunted down a wolf after that game and kicked the crap out of it. I hate lobos. What a stupid mascot anyway. And who calls their gym the Pitt. What kind of stupid name is that?
Anyway, that was the extent of my gambling and in case you can't tell, it did not go well. At least it was only my girlfriend that was out money. Somewhere around the 5 o'clock mark, most everyone decided that they hadn't actually recovered from the night before they were going to go home and get ready to go out. Luckily for me, everyone in my room was well rested (the Russian slept about 15 hours, and that is in real people time). So, the BILs went out partying early.
We hit up an Irish pub that was next to an adult entertainment venue (one that promised "Stiff Drinks, Hot women and no cover!" no less). It was atmospheric and not overpriced (the food was supposedly good as well, but I did not eat there). The drinks were watered down, but it was probably better for me that they were. After hanging out there for about an hour and watching the last of the basketball games, the rest of our host showed up and we somehow found our way next door. It wasn't planned, I swear it.
The old adage you get what you pay for is sometimes true. This was, unfortunately, one of those times. One of the girls made that transvestite Tiger Woods was dating look like a Victoria Secret's model. Most of the brief time in the "club" was uneventful but there was a challenge to tip one of the strippers to see what she would do. It would be unfair to marine ecosystems to say this woman was a beached whale, but I am always an adventurous sort so I stepped up to the plate.
What followed was easily one of the five worst moments of my life, ranking somewhere between nearly losing a finger (and the subsequent "painkiller" they forced into the opening) and living in Chapel Hill for a year (just kidding Tarheels...sorta). I offered her someone else's $5 bill and she stuck it in my mouth and retrieved it with hers. It felt like I had a vacuum sucking the life straight out of me. Just awful, awful, awful. That was about the time I was ready to go.
We hurried out of the establishment before Moby Dick could sink our ship and steal my leg and I stopped into a place called (I kid you not) Pizza! Pizza! While there, a group of girls were consoling their friend who apparently had driven up to Windsor to her fiancee sucking face with another broad. I don't believe in hell, but if I did I imagine it would be something like that.
We spent the rest of the night bouncing between clubs filled to the brim with 19 year old girls. Somewhere along the way I realized that only one other guy and I were being carded. The legal age is 19, we were all in our late 20s (or older). C'mon man! I guess I am just very mature for my age. I believe one person commented that a bar we had just been in was like a high school prom. So, Saturday night in Windsor was definitely off the hook, if you're not old enough to drink in the US that is. Wooderson would have had a field day.
Pretty much everything else that happened is either covered by the "what happens in Windsor" clause or I was asleep. Apparently there was a giant party in one of the other rooms on the executive floor. And there was tons of marijuana stench the next morning. Those Toroncans sure do like their ganja. We made a pit stop by BnG for some more breakfast and then rolled out for Columbus, OH again.
On the way back we decided to forgo the awful view from the bridge for the picturesque tunnel. Not only was the trip to the customs station twice as long, there was an ugly American dude waiting for us. And we spent the whole time longing for daylight and pointing out rust spots on the ceiling. Great idea groom!
We had to stop for gas in Detroit. For all you gangstaaaars in Durham, you should really relocate. There was gang graffiti covering the side of the gas station. Inside, the bathroom door was a piece of plywood with a door handle. There was a woman who propositioned the cashier with homemade cologne or perfume. I really wish we had spent the whole time there, the cultural value would have been immense.
We stopped for lunch in Bowling Green at a place called Myle's Pizza. Not bad. We also stopped for stuffed bread sticks at a place called Campus Pollyeyes. Also not bad. American food, you may be horrible for me, but at least you aren't horrible tasting! We rolled back into Columbus around 6 or 7 and for some reason I stayed up watching old WWF matches on Youtube (Royal Rumble '92). I had to be up at 4 am to catch my plane back to work, so naturally I went to bed somewhere around 12:30. The groom drove me back to the airport and I made it back in just enough time to get something to eat and put in a closing shift at work.
If you're still with me, then you may not be sure if this was a fun trip or not. Or you may have seen the Hangover one too many times and gotten your expectations way too high. Let me tell you, it was a lot of fun. If you're not having fun in Windsor, it is proof you're just not drinking enough.
*Bachelors of Partying/University of Windsor...
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