An open letter to Michiganians
(Michiganites? Michiganers?)

Dearest Michiganians,

Thank you for warmly welcoming our caravan of rowdy Canadians into your fine state this past weekend. Either than the few times in which we feared for our lives, we had an excellent time enjoying the Wolverine State.

Upon returning home to crime-less, character-less G-town, a few key questions stick out in my mind that I am unable to answer by my usual means (Google and whining profusely):


1. Does your road kill clean-up crew take significant holiday time during the summer months? While there is no fonder memory than being greeted as soon as you cross into Michigan with a rotting, maggoty deer carcass on the side of the road...I'm sure that there are other, more sanitary greeting methods that you could focus on. I have never in my life seen such an abundance of putrefying, half-liquid remains in one place. I realize that road kill is an inevitable fact of highway driving, but every single other jurisdiction I've driven through manages to clean it up on a regular basis. So...yeah. What's the story here?


2. Why must all of your public washrooms make visitors fear for their lives? Tourists to your fine state should not have to go to the washroom in groups, muttering prayers (or non-religious equivalents) under their breath. And please don't tell me that I must have just hit a bad washroom or two...my small bladder and I toured washrooms across the state, each one progressively worst than the last. On that note, you should mention in your tourist literature that it is helpful - even recommended - that each group of visitors have at least one burly, muscular bodyguard appointee. Luckily, I was covered on that front and made it back onto Canadian soil in one piece.


3. Is there a particular reason that you choose to patch your roads in such an over-enthusiastic manner? Potholes are one thing, but constructing small mountains in the former crevices only succeeds in worsening the problem. For future reference, roads should actually be flat. It leaves quite the mark when one is driving at the apparently common speed of 152 km and hits several of these small mountains in a row. The top of my head hurts, and I remain quite sure that there is a dent in my roof.


4. Do you employ practical jokers to get a laugh out of the tourists on weekends? I appreciate a good story as much as the next person, but I have to wonder...was the creepy looking guy standing below the sign in the middle of nowhere that read "DO NOT PICK UP HITCHHIKERS - YOU ARE IN A PRISON AREA" for real? Was he *actually* a newly-broken-out-of-jail hitchhiker? Or were you just trying to get a rise out of the tourists? I was curious...but not curious enough to stop and find out, mind you.

In closing, thank you for your hospitality, lack of speed-limit enforcement, and cheese curds. It was a pleasure.

Sincerely,
uncharted