A nutshell...

So Detroit was fabulous and more.

It snowed on Friday. And snowed. And kept on snowing.

The 6AM "wake-up call" on Saturday consisted of a jackhammer pummeling the ground on the 8th floor.

Please be advised, we were on the 7th floor.

Please also be advised, my sister was PISSED.

And banging on the ceiling with the luggage rack.

And on her 8th call to the front desk.

And after two hours of the most grating sound you have EVER heard, I couldn't stop laughing to save my life.

The entire hotel lost its mind.

Some dude threw a plate in the buffet line: IT WAS DIRTY! AND DO YOU HEAR THAT JACKHAMMER!
The cops showed up to restore order.

This is comedy in disguise, my friends, and nothing short of hilarious, escalated by lack of sleep.

Needless to say, we moved hotels.

And we did a lot of driving around.

And toured my parents old stomping grounds.

And I drank a Vernors and nearly wept at how good it was.

We bowled the Majestic on Easter Sunday, which has been there forever, claiming to be the oldest active bowling alley in America.

We basically had the run of the place, save for a wake that was happening at the bar.

A dear friend of the guy pouring the drinks had killed himself, so everyone had gathered, singing along with the old-school punk blaring through the building, throwing back beers and shots and memories.

They were mourning, and it showed, but they were generally in good spirits and happy to be together.

We could well relate.

The city itself was a ghost town.

Abandoned building after abandoned building.

For lease. For rent. For sale. FORECLOSURE.

Brand new apartment complexes, EMPTY.

The mitten needs your good vibes, so send 'em on through.

Oh, also: Owen says it's FINE to eat your boogers, he thinks that kid waiting for the elevator is awesomely FAT, he shoots webs from his fingers if he disagrees with you and he is ready to bowl, after he stretches.

He is three.