YOU CAN’T PARK THERE
By Duncan
I get out of Dodge during Memorial Weekend. In May, Indianapolis hosts the “Greatest Spectacle in Racing,” The Indianapolis 500-Mile Race.
DUNCAN - CLAN TENT (The clan I belong to is pronounced “Don-A-Key”)
It’s time for my annual trip to a sleepy little town that hosts the Highland Scottish Festival and Games held in Scottland, USA, which happens to be in Alma, Michigan.
Alma is a small town with a population of less than (10,000) ten thousand. Its claim to fame is Alma College, a private Presbyterian liberal arts college with approximately 1,400 students.
There are no motels or hotels in Alma, so Alma College dormitory rooms are rented to people like me for $70.40 plus tax a night. Oh, and by the way, The Alma College alcohol policy will be strictly enforced, loosely interpreted as … No Scotch allowed at the Scottish Festival.
But do not worry; a doctor in town owns a patch of ground between an elementary school and the college. He puts up a big tent, hires a band, and serves alcohol in his tent—ten dollars for admission to the tent and $5.00 for an ounce of Scotch. (No ice, just one ounce of Scotch.) I have no idea what they charged for a beer.
Just for fun, a Scotsman like “meself” does the math. A bottle of Scotch is 33 ounces, 33 ounces x $5.00 a shot = $165.00. Not a bad return on a $20.00 bottle of Scotch. Aye, Lads and Lassies!
Here is how I see the Festival and Games. The old people (like myself) go to activities during the day, and the young people of Alma, Michigan, are starved for entertainment in town and go to the drinking tent at night.
Over the 10-15 years I have attended, the bagpipes and Scottish music in the drinking tent have turned to rock and roll bands. The attendees in the drinking tent could care less about traditional Scottish music. Why must ‘climate change’ be changing the music?
So, On Sunday morning, I decided to get up early and head for the water. Lake Michigan is only a couple of hours away. I needed to get away from my splendid accommodations.
I included a quick side trip to the water as I headed for the house. I ended up in a town called Saint Joseph, Michigan. They had a beach and many places to eat, which looked like an interesting place to have lunch.
Local artist painting. I didn’t ask him any questions.
Looking west, at the top of the hill. Lake Michigan is in the distance.
Silver Beach, Saint Joseph, Michigan
Saint Joseph, Michigan lighthouse.
Silver Beach Merry-go-round - $4.00 a ride.
I then realized I had to walk the ‘steps of death’ back to the top and find Mean Yellow. Would I be able to make it all the way to the top without stopping? Or would I have to stop one, twice, or three times? I counted the steps. Seventy-eight steps to the top, I make it all the way without stopping.
I stopped, looked down the steps, and thought, what a good boy I am. Give me the papers to apply for the Paris Olympics. However, I found a vacant park brunch that looked most inviting at the top of the hill.
Clementines on the canal.
Clementines was a few blocks from Silver Beach on a canal with many boats tied to the docks. The bar looked interesting. Let’s give this place a shot!
Michelle was my waitress and was a no-nonsense woman. She looked like She could hold her own in a wrestling match. I knew not to “play” with this woman. The minute she came to the table, she was in charge,
”We have Mimosas on sale for $5.00. The prime rib is excellent, and I assume you want to start with a small tower of onion rings? What would you like to drink?”
She was a no-smoking, no-joking woman. I asked her if the restaurant crowd was what she expected on a holiday weekend. "The foot traffic looked a little light to me."
“It is what it is. I have two more hours, and I can call it a day.”
As you can see from the photograph of Michelle walking to my table above, I ordered the small tower of onion rings. Michelle has pushed the tower of onion rings to customers before. By the way, the onion rings are excellent.
I will say this: mimosas and onion rings do not complement each other. What was I thinking? I know what I was thinking. I had a mimosa at Matt the Miller’s in Carmel, Indiana, a few years back. It came with eggs benedict and hollandaise sauce, fried potatoes, a fruit cup, and coffee. I still remember that meal.
Note to self: Onion rings and mimosas are not a good idea.
Lunch
Al Ruppert
Meet a young Al Ruppert. Mr. Ruppert was a dairy farmer. His kids needed a school for hearing-impaired children, which was not available where he lived. He sold the dairy farm and moved to South Haven, Michigan in 1972.
Al bought the South Haven Office Supply Store, which sold copy machines and repaired typewriters. In 1981, Al purchased Art’s Tavern in South Haven and renamed it Clementines. 1986, Al purchased Mariner Inn, and in 1986, Al opened Clementines Two in Saint Joseph. Then he bought the Hawkshead Golf Course and Restaurant.
DUNCAN
I decided to assume the position in the back of Clementines under the sign. You know, I always need “The Picture.” But I had a better idea. I needed to park Mean Yellow under the sign and ask someone to take our picture. I pulled the Mean Yellow under the sign and heard a voice yelling at me, “YOU CAN’T PARK THERE!”
It was not hard to asses the situation almost immediately. Two guys stood by a Ford SUV a few feet away in the parking lot. The drunk was riding shotgun (Which is slang for he’s not driving.); he was loaded and kept running his mouth. The other guy (driver) was standing by the Ford, eating a spare rib and laughing. He was not totally wasted.
“You can’t park there.”
Mean Yellow - Duncan
The drunk walked up to me and said, “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars for your car right now. I have the cash in my pocket.”
“It will cost you more than $10,000. What’s your name? ”
“You don’t need to know my name; I have cash. My name is Mark!”
“Damn it, Mark, you told me you would take my picture if I brought my car over and parked under the sign. Now, here is my phone. Walk back a few steps and take my picture as you promised. Get my feet and the sign in the picture.”
Mark looked at me and said, “Did I say that?”
“Yes, walk back a few feet and take my picture.”
After the picture was taken, I stood next to Andy (the driver), who was still eating a spare rib. I asked him, “Do you have any more of those spare ribs?”
“Hell, yeah!” He lifted the back gate, and there was a whole pan of ribs. “Help yourself.”
“Where are you from? What line of business are you in? How much would you sell your car for?”
“I’m from Indianapolis and in the mortgage loan business. I just sold my company, and I’m retired. You can’t afford the car at any price.”
I want to retire, too, but I have to wait a few years.
Andy, thanks for the rib; I’ve got to get back to Indianapolis. Tell Mark thanks for the picture.
You meet the nicest drunks behind Clementines in a Mean Yellow hot rod.
