My last day visiting bunny_hugger would need to be a short one. I was flying out later than usual, but from Detroit rather than Lansing, so we'd lose time to commuting. We came out ahead, and I'd get back to my parents' home sooner than otherwise, which might be a good thing. Friends warned me there were all sorts of weather delays and snow out East. The snow reports were pure bunk, as all snow this year (after Halloween) has been.
After lunch --- bunny_hugger rates lowly her cooking abilities, unfairly; the meal, rice and imitation beef cubes, was quite good --- we figured out what I actually had to finish packing, which wasn't very much, and figured when we'd have to set out. Before we could go to the airport, though, we had to scout out a neighborhood.
My brother's been considering whether to rent a house for a couple days around our wedding. He'd looked it up online exhaustively, and had located the spot, but he really wanted to know what locals thought of the bed-and-breakfast run out of someone's home. She didn't have much impression of the place, since she didn't get out there often, but we could make a swing around the area to tell.
What we learned most was that bunny_hugger's satellite navigator hasn't got any idea where the street is. We believe the navigator to be the victim of alternate street names. But on a bit of improvising and looking around local landmarks, including a park and the abandoned Oldsmobile factory, we almost certainly saw the house my brother was thinking of renting, since we exhausted the street we're pretty sure it was on.
The signs for the neighborhood are pretty good ones. The houses are of 1920s vintage, but, they're in generally good repair, the streets are cleaned, and the streets themselves are interrupted with semicircular concrete islands and traffic roundabouts at the intersections. The implication is this is a neighborhood with enough self-esteem to nag the city into making traffic slower and less pleasant, probably to keep those pesky people who don't live in the area from using it to travel through. (Now that I write that, I wonder if this isn't why the satellite navigator couldn't find it. The right neighborhood organization fussing over the real versus the signed street names could go far.) Add to that some good-sized parks and, well, seems like the kind of neighborhood that supports bed-and-breakfasts competently well.
But we did need still to get to the airport, and drove to the east, talking over all the things there are --- what we'd seen, what we plan to do, wedding expectations, all sorts of things --- and somehow forgot to get the quick snack we planned to take on the road before getting to the airport. That'll happen. We went over topics like, when I do move to Lansing, whether I'll have to sneer at calling it ``the'' Ohio State University out of Michigander pride or whether I can continue to sneer at it because, man, listen to the words ``the Ohio State University''.
Despite all the hopes of snow, there wasn't any back east. My plane took off on time.
The Detroit airport's advertising banners around the TV screens continue to claim there's a Borders in one of the terminals. I find the dated claim a bit charming to have around yet.
Trivia: Joseph Lowthian Hudson opened his store in 1881 on the ground floor of the Detroit Opera House. Source: The Grand Emporiums: The Illustrated History Of America's Great Department Stores, Robert Hendrickson.
Currently Reading: Colonial New Jersey: A History, John E Pomfret.