Knock me down, it's all in vain
Preliminary advisory: I got my Dreamwidth bug-out account a couple months ago, and confess I haven't done much with it but occasionally re-back-up my posts to it. I'm not saying I'm ready to jump over to it just now, but that does depend on whether I can figure out how to schedule a post to appear at a set time or whether I have to go back to formally hitting a ``Post'' button on something at just past midnight every day.
So how do you feel about Pat Benatar? If you're of my and bunny_hugger's cohort, probably fondly enough, with a couple of her songs lodged in your memories as just what growing up sounded like. bunny_hugger's father caught us both by surprise by announcing he was a Pat Benatar fan, and specifically, that he wanted to go to her concert in Detroit. But he does that sometimes. He's depressed, and never quite gets out of it, but he does pick up new or suddenly-strong fandoms with charming ease.
The complications: bunny_hugger's mother didn't want to go. And he didn't want to drive into Detroit himself. He asked if bunny_hugger would go with him, and if I would drive. I'm less anxious about city driving than they are, on the strength of literally several times I've done street driving in Manhattan and the Bronx. (Plus highway driving to JFK Airport because you can't avoid that. And once to LaGuardia which everyone dearly hopes to avoid.) She said sure, if her father bought our tickets. He did; we didn't find out until well after the purchase --- he got tickets months ahead of time --- just how expensive they were. We had imagined something like twenty dollars, the kinds of concerts we go to. Pat Benatar commands more than Walk The Moon or Yes do.
It was at one of the Detroit casinos, and required no surface driving; it was at the end of one of the highways. bunny_hugger's father also bought dinner at the casino buffet, which we got to the moment it opened. Possibly wisely; within a half-hour it was stuffed, as were we. I haven't been to buffet restaurants much at all in recent years, part of why I'm not quite so spherical as I used to be, but as an occasional treat ... and, oh, goodness but there was so very much to eat. Even the salad bar alone might have been enough, since it was also stuffed with cheese cubes and the like. The one thing not in the restaurant, which had the footprint of a mall's anchor store: bathrooms. Maybe they worry about people spending all their lives in there?
Well, we spent a while scouting out food, and then I started with salad and a cream of mushroom soup that turned out to be about four times as good as I'd expected cream of mushroom soup to be. I want to say I took only two further trips for food but I am, weeks later, still digesting all that. Her father got a couple slices of pie for dessert and then went back for a slice of pot roast (or something); and that was maybe a little too much, even for him. Oh, so much food.
In the time before the doors open we wandered into the casino where there weren't any of the classic old-style slot machines her father hopes for. (And that we kind of hope for, too.) There was, engagingly, a new digital slot machine with a Monty Python and the Holy Grail theme. The objective of it was obscure to me, as are all modern slot machines, but it featured the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog. Promising stuff.
Didn't spend much time there, but we did find and poke into the hotel's gift shop where there was ... mm ... well, cute enough-looking Detroit-themed stuff but not anything we'd need. You know how it goes. Not much sense waiting around further, so, we went to the show.
Trivia: (Some varieties of) locoweed poison by overdosing the ingester with selenium.
Source: The Disappearing Spoon: And Other True Tales Of Madness, Love, and the Periodic History of the World From The Periodic Table of the Elements, Sam Kean.
Currently Reading: Gateway To The Moon: Building the Kennedy Space Center Launch Complex, Charles D Benson, William B Faherty. NASA SP-4204, excerpted.