Travel to Detroit is arduous. Paths are marred by pot-holes and debris evidencing decades of communal neglect. Indeed the main route into the village (pronounced "Seventy Five") contains multiple blockages making passage often frustrating and sometimes impossible.
Once you arrive, dear reader, you are quickly ushered to the reigning ruler, a Queen who goes by many names, most prominent being Sara-Bellum. Sara dresses in distinctive attire reserved for Her Majesty which explores the range of color between light black and dark black. Sometimes Sara's clothes are transparent, allowing Royal Consort Jeremy to peek at hidden mysteries.
The tribe is matriarchal and closely-knit. Through the use of small devices in their hands, inhabitants spread news instantly and play pranks on each other, like tagging friends on Facebook in places they physically aren't so the tagee's wife doesn't know where he is. Domestic stability is not a tradition in this primitive community.
The Queen's ladies-in-waiting, Princesses Wednesday and Dani, are decorated like the Queen herself with inked images on body-places not commonly painted in civilized societies: e.g., thighs, shoulders, inner lips. Despite their regal station, the princesses utter shocking vulgarities. In fact, they even use a book to create new profanities, phrases so indelicate I shan't repeat them. Truly, I was aghast in horror at their indecency. The incongruity between the princesses' attractive appearances and foul mouths is startling.
Despite their savagery, Detroiters don't eat meat. Which surprises me because Princess Wednesday goes around biting people at random. Apparently she doesn't swallow.
Most notable is the tribe's boisterous behavior, extending over days. I arrived in the middle of a bacchanalian festival where fermented beverages were avidly consumed in endless succession, punctuated with potions of caffeine. Loud voices, randy gestures and impudent remarks were observed. Naturally, the village has women's roller derby. My written notes are available for scholarly inspection.
In the interests of science, your intrepid adventurer has undertaken many difficult journeys to exotic locations but, after my harrowing experience in this heart of darkness, I am sensibly electing to retire from future foreign expeditions and spend my few remaining years lounging on a couch, reading quietly. Anyone considering voyage to the island of Michigan, be forewarned!
The D is so notorious...
ReplyDeleteI remember those roads. Yikes.
ReplyDeleteWhole neighbourhoods looked like apocalyptic movie sets.
I got lost there and had to talk to the guy at the gas station through a 6" thick glass. Scary times.
Suzanne
http://www.suzannecarillo.com
This is so interesting! What an atmosphere, really movie-like! Kisses
ReplyDeleteFashion and Cookies - fashion and beauty blog
This is so well-written and I agree with Vale: I can imagine this as a - really scary - movie! xxx
ReplyDeleteI spent a lot of time on business in Detroit in the early 1980s. I could see the decline start to accelerate. It had been a great city, fifth largest in the country with lots to do and lots of fun people. It is a sad victim proving the failure of socialism. Very sad indeed.
ReplyDeleteI hope that the city can come back at least a bit.
I loved reading this, and your sense of humor is so refreshing here! I have never been to Detroit but have heard a mix of reviews--not so much about the arduous roads and potholes, but about the revitalization (is that still happening?!) and about the resilience of the people. Will add to my travel bucketlist, especially after this post. I'm intrigued!
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