Airport – Hotel – Club Bart

38Finding my out of the airport was easy once I had given up on finding any type of shop there. I had forgotten the travel power socket adapters I had bought the day before. The little bastard pieces of plastic and metal were still sitting on my couch at home.

The trip was uneventful, the driver – a Mohammed – made small talk and complained about US customs and INS officials. Something about a young, abusive guest he had to drive to Canada once, who didn’t have her papers and pissed off the customs woman until the later stuck a camera up her snatch to check for drugs. In front of the security people, and the taxi driver.

By the time we arrived, I felt a bit of tiredness creep up on me. Forgot to ask the driver’s card. He was pretty nice and didn’t rip me off too badly if at all. I doubt he’ll ever read this, but I am sorry man, I didn’t mean to snub you.

The Hyatt itself was pretty nice, but it looked like it’s out in the middle of nowehere. This is a country where the car is the holy cow. Staff was really nice as well. Tamy, the receptionist, asked me whether I wanted to keys. I looked at her as if she was crazy.

“There is only me,” I replied, gesturing to indicate the empty air next to me.

“Well some guests ask for two keys,” she explained. My eyes narrowed. I thought the only reason for that would be if you want to give a key to some woman you pick up later. I didn’t say so, and just replied, “No, thanks, I won’t need that.”

The room was really nice, very spacious. Nice, big bed that I’ll only need about a third of. I took a shower, put on a new shirt, and went down again after a little while. At the reception, I ran into one of the really nice flight attendants from LH442. I didn’t recognize her at all at first; she looked totally different without the uniform. Much better too, but I didn’t be that kind of guy and didn’t mention it. I almost told her to come to the show – the topic had come up on the flight – when I saw she was with some guy who was waiting on a nearby couch. Don’t have to be a datewrecker here. Besides, I seriously wondered whether Corey & Joel would amuse flight attendants.

The hotel didn’t have a power socket adapter for me, so I went to the shopping mall across the street. If there was one white person in there – besides me, obviously – I didn’t notice them. And I did get some odd looks, too. Like a fish out of water, I guess. I did get an adapter at Radio Shack, for US$5.50. About what the whole set had cost me which I had forgotten at home.

I returned to the hotel and was tempted to ring Joel to see if I could get a ride to Ferndale, but I decided not to do that. I knew from what Tamy the receptionist had told me that a ride to Ferndale would be expensive. But I really didn’t want to be a bother and I figured it’d be more fun to just show up.

The taxi guy got a call ever minute – he seemed to be running a chauffeur business from his car – but he was nice enough. I still felt ripped off when he dropped me off outside Club Bart, but what the hell. I am a tourist, gotta fix the US economy by paying inflated taxi fares. Or, by the looks of this guy, sponsor terrorism.

I am just kidding.

We finally arrived at Club Bart; by now it was really dark outside. Club Bart, even from the outside, looks tiny. I paid the driver, and had him give me his number. Just in case. I stepped outside into the cool Detroit evening air and entered the Club.

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