Saturday, July 20, 2002
Dale: I spent Monday and Tuesday in Michigan's Upper Peninsula on business. I flew up to Marquette's Sawyer International Airport, arriving at 9:30pm Monday. Won't do that again, especially when I'm faced with the prospect of driving for the next hour and a half.
I like Sawyer--it's a converted Air Force base, and it's been nicely renovated for civilian use. But I question the adjective "International." There are no direct flights to anywhere outside the U.S., so the only thing "International" about it must be the fact that Canadians are known to visit. You see this phenomenon frequently. I think the legal term excusing this form of labelling is called "puffing." "Puffing" is what courts call legitimate exaggeration of a product's qualities, e.g. "The Best Fertilizer You Can Buy!", as opposed to false advertizing. The fact you can take a connector flight to the UK apparently makes it "International."
Anyway, I picked up my rental car, and my oh my it was a nice one! A brand spanking new Pontiac Grand Prix. Sporty, with acceleration usually described in terms of "Gs." I tested the acceleration on the way to Marquette. You see, I discovered too late that I hadn't packed a tie for my suit. There's a Brooks Brothers store at the new McNamara Terminal (nickname: "The House That Cronyism Built!") in Detroit, but I refuse to spend $55 on a freaking necktie. Not unless it's capable of calling 911 if I'm unconscious.
I knew there were places in Marquette that sold ties, but I figured that they all closed no later than 10pm. It's a 15 mile jaunt to the business district, so I had to move. I roared into Marquette at 9:50pm, and spotted a Target. I didn't run anyone over in the parking lot, and sprinted into the store just as the intercom, with strained politeness, advised the remaining shoppers to bring their final purchases to the front. As a former grocery store employee, I assure you that the politeness is quite forced at this point. The employees are tired, and they want to go home. Seeing a jerk like me rushing into the store is, shall we say, unwelcome. Management (as opposed to the employees) will be quite patient, and allow patrons to continue their leisurely browsing for 30 minutes or more after closing time. This makes the cashiers twitchy. I remember fighting the urge to grab the intercom and announce:
"Attention shoppers. The store is now closed. The pit bulls are being uncaged as we speak, and will be roaming the aisles shortly. Please note that we do not feed them during the day, choosing instead to poke them with sharp sticks. We look forward to the patronage of your next of kin. Thank you."
I didn't get the chance to irritate anyone, however. This Target did not carry ties. Ouch. I sprinted back out, and spotted the WalMart marquee across the highway. Defying more physical laws, I crossed the highway and thundered into the parking lot. Whew: it was one of those "open 24 hours" WalMarts. And it had ties. I bought 2 for $20, and both were 100% silk. Final score: WalMart 2, Brooks Brothers 0. "Down goes Brooks Brothers!" I returned to the car and settled in for my long ride. The Tigers were on the local AM station, and mirable dictu, they won in extra innings, beating the eternally tragic Red Sox on what was generously called a base hit but should have been scored as an error.
I talk a lot about baseball, but I am really not a huge fan. I grew up with it, especially Hall of Fame broadcaster Ernie Harwell. This is Ernie's last year (he's 84) and I try to listen while I still can. When he's retired, there will only be one classic baseball broadcaster left-Jon Miller in Baltimore. Like the Miller and the late Jack Buck, Ernie understands that he's an invited guest on your radio, and he broadcasts accordingly. He's a friendly storyteller who avoids the "look at me!" vocal theatrics that pass for "good" broadcasting today. I've listened to him for time out of mind, but since the Tigers have been uncompetitive for 15 years, and the game has deteriorated into a home run derby, I've listened less. I guess I consider it a childhood friend I've since grown apart from. As I said, the Tigers won, and I was left with the task of finding something else to listen to with another 75 minutes of drive time facing me.
I like Sawyer--it's a converted Air Force base, and it's been nicely renovated for civilian use. But I question the adjective "International." There are no direct flights to anywhere outside the U.S., so the only thing "International" about it must be the fact that Canadians are known to visit. You see this phenomenon frequently. I think the legal term excusing this form of labelling is called "puffing." "Puffing" is what courts call legitimate exaggeration of a product's qualities, e.g. "The Best Fertilizer You Can Buy!", as opposed to false advertizing. The fact you can take a connector flight to the UK apparently makes it "International."
Anyway, I picked up my rental car, and my oh my it was a nice one! A brand spanking new Pontiac Grand Prix. Sporty, with acceleration usually described in terms of "Gs." I tested the acceleration on the way to Marquette. You see, I discovered too late that I hadn't packed a tie for my suit. There's a Brooks Brothers store at the new McNamara Terminal (nickname: "The House That Cronyism Built!") in Detroit, but I refuse to spend $55 on a freaking necktie. Not unless it's capable of calling 911 if I'm unconscious.
I knew there were places in Marquette that sold ties, but I figured that they all closed no later than 10pm. It's a 15 mile jaunt to the business district, so I had to move. I roared into Marquette at 9:50pm, and spotted a Target. I didn't run anyone over in the parking lot, and sprinted into the store just as the intercom, with strained politeness, advised the remaining shoppers to bring their final purchases to the front. As a former grocery store employee, I assure you that the politeness is quite forced at this point. The employees are tired, and they want to go home. Seeing a jerk like me rushing into the store is, shall we say, unwelcome. Management (as opposed to the employees) will be quite patient, and allow patrons to continue their leisurely browsing for 30 minutes or more after closing time. This makes the cashiers twitchy. I remember fighting the urge to grab the intercom and announce:
"Attention shoppers. The store is now closed. The pit bulls are being uncaged as we speak, and will be roaming the aisles shortly. Please note that we do not feed them during the day, choosing instead to poke them with sharp sticks. We look forward to the patronage of your next of kin. Thank you."
I didn't get the chance to irritate anyone, however. This Target did not carry ties. Ouch. I sprinted back out, and spotted the WalMart marquee across the highway. Defying more physical laws, I crossed the highway and thundered into the parking lot. Whew: it was one of those "open 24 hours" WalMarts. And it had ties. I bought 2 for $20, and both were 100% silk. Final score: WalMart 2, Brooks Brothers 0. "Down goes Brooks Brothers!" I returned to the car and settled in for my long ride. The Tigers were on the local AM station, and mirable dictu, they won in extra innings, beating the eternally tragic Red Sox on what was generously called a base hit but should have been scored as an error.
I talk a lot about baseball, but I am really not a huge fan. I grew up with it, especially Hall of Fame broadcaster Ernie Harwell. This is Ernie's last year (he's 84) and I try to listen while I still can. When he's retired, there will only be one classic baseball broadcaster left-Jon Miller in Baltimore. Like the Miller and the late Jack Buck, Ernie understands that he's an invited guest on your radio, and he broadcasts accordingly. He's a friendly storyteller who avoids the "look at me!" vocal theatrics that pass for "good" broadcasting today. I've listened to him for time out of mind, but since the Tigers have been uncompetitive for 15 years, and the game has deteriorated into a home run derby, I've listened less. I guess I consider it a childhood friend I've since grown apart from. As I said, the Tigers won, and I was left with the task of finding something else to listen to with another 75 minutes of drive time facing me.
