Detroit’s freezy hug: Motor City’s icey-chill vibe for brave souls
the frost has hit here, clocks in at -9 deg celsius, feels like a slap off a polar bear at -12.1, but it’s still warmer than the side-eye i got from that dude at the coney dog stand. drank an espresso? nope, tried a polar vortex latte-just ice water with a sprinkle of existential dread. checked maps and yeah, this place is just a stone’s throw from lake erie, where the fish do backflips because they’re more stable than downtown rents. if you get bored, ann arbor’s 40 miles west, flint’s 70 up, or winnipeg (not the city, the shuffle) is just a bridge ride across the river. pro tip: carry your passport like it’s a bouncer at a dive bar.
someone told me that buddy’s pizza’s the holy grail of square monstrosities, but i’m still traumatized by the third burner oven’s hum. 304 square miles of this mess, and half the buildings look like they’re waiting for a fixer-upper apocalypse. drive around and you’ll see the renaissance center looming like a corporate monolith stuck on fast-forward. or better yet, sneak into bel air island park-it’s basically a green lung in a city that forgot how to breathe.
wake up early enough and you’ll see the detroit skyline throw its hands up at the clouds. humidity’s dancing at 71% here, so even this ice feels sweaty somehow. woke up to a tweet about the lions’ new defense and immediately regretted it. the traffic’s like a tantrum in a parking lot, so skip the rush hour if you’ve got a death wish. saw a guy in a motown t-shirt serving pierogi rye bread at a food truck downtown-detroit’s like a dumpster fire of cultures, and that’s kinda the point.
at night, stick to midtown or corktown. don’t wander alone past the starfish statue on 9th-locals swear it’s cursed since someone painted a face on it during the riot days. take an uber, scream into the velvet voice of the city’s rebirth murals, and remember that this dump’s only here because of badgerman ghosts and a few stubborn souls who defied the apocalypse. oh, and eat at lafayette. trust me. that chili on a hotdog with mustard and onions? it’s a crime against pizza, but hey, nobody said detroit makes sense.
iframe for mapping:
and here’s three photos that scream ’you’re either brave or lost’:
the 4.6m metro area’s still stubbornly standing. don’t let the bankruptcy headlines fool you-detroit’s still got more grit than your grandma’s fruitcake.
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