Detroit weekend (part one)

Over Memorial Day weekend, we spent (almost) two days in Detroit. 

We drove down on Saturday morning and, upon arrival, checked in at the Hotel David Whitney, which is the relatively new luxury hotel in the historic--built in 1915--and opulent David Whitney Building. The David Whitney Building is located across from Grand Circus Park on Witherall Street, between Washington Boulevard and Woodward Avenue.

We were both relieved that we could check into the room early, as it allowed us to drop off our suitcase and explore the absolutely stunning hotel room. The decor was vaguely Arts-and-Crafts (or Arts-and-Crafts adjacent), appropriate for a building constructed in 1915.

At about noon, we made the short walk from the hotel to Comerica Park to see the Tigers play the Toronto Blue Jays. The stadium was overrun by Jays fans, who had likely flooded over the Ambassador Bridge and Windsor Tunnel. My gut reaction was to be disappointed in Detroit fans for not supporting "our" team in "our" ballpark, but in fairness they had probably headed "up north" for the holiday weekend.

In never fails that I always sit in front of the most obnoxious fans at any sporting even I attend. The guys behind us sounded like the cast of Trailer Park Boys: loud, beer-swilling 20-something Canadian guys. They were reasonably good-natured except for the time I thought they might get in a brawl with some dudes buying beer in the aisle and blocking all of our views). Overall, they could have toned it down a notch but then again, maybe I'm just a cranky old guy.

In the hot sun with no breeze that I thought might bake me from the inside out, the Tigers beat the Jays in a close one, 2-1. The Jays fans left the game disappointed.

After the game--thank heavens the game did not go to extra innings because I don't think I would have lasted--we headed back to our gloriously air conditioned and not sun-drenched hotel room. We had a few hours to decompress before our Echo & the Bunnymen show that evening.

After some research and much menu study and analysis, we settled on District 78 for dinner (good place, by the way. We made the right choice). Then, it was the short stroll up Woodward to the Fillmore for the Echo show.

As much as I'm guaranteed to sit in front of annoying people at sporting events, I'm also guaranteed to have some crazy or embarrassing situation at whatever concert I attend. In this case, I saw a guy in line for the show who was a dead ringer for my friend Matt C. So much so that I approached the poor guy with my hand outstretched as I exclaimed, "Hey! How's it going?!" It was only after seeing the utterly baffled and bemused expression on this poor guy's face that I realized this was NOT Matt C. Oops! I apologized and "Not Matty" took it in stride.

As for the concert, it was...fine. Ian McCulloch seems to be going through the motions at this point. I'm not sure if he has health issues or he's just uninspired. Every so often, he can summon the old magic, but by and large he is a sad sight as he performs in darkness (no spotlight), usually sitting on a stool. (Oddly enough, he seemed sprightlier when it came time to walk off stage).

On the bright side, Will Sergeant's guitar playing was on point, and hired guns that comprise the rest of the touring band were tight.

By the time the show was over, and having drank the strongest old-fashioned I'd had in a long time, I was ready to just crash in the hotel room.