Here's still more sharing of my Air B&B reviews. I had driven up to Honor Michigan for celebration at St. Ambrose Cellars, the Crush, an end of the summer celebration of the first year at St. Ambrose's tap room. Maybe it was dancing with scores of Benzie county fun peeps in the barn to K. Jones and the Benzie Playboys that caught my ardor. Maybe it was drinking the Black Madonna Sour Mead that revved up my being, delicious with blackberries and provokingly sour. The Benzie playboys played zydeco, with accordions, washboards and police whistles adding character to guitarists playing the most danceable music. I was transformed deeply, and really believed I had become a Benzie County playboy. As so I played all night after the harvest party bonfire had dwindled to ashes. Enjoyed a microbrew at the counter of Seven Monks, and checked out the music of Madame LeRoux & Krewe. And then I went into twilight zone, TC after Two AM.
And it's so easy to keep playing around Benzie and Traverse City, with You and I pub never closing and JS HAMBURG DOWNTOWN TRAVERSE CITY serving a fine breakfast and unlimited coffee refills throughout the "dark side of the spoon" night. And so I opened my Moleskinne journal on the Formica counter, made jokes to my neighbors at the counter, and wrote until dawn. For breaks, I stepped into the parking lot and watched fishermen in waders casting for King Coho. I wrote ten wonderful pages in black ink, and then I began to tire. Wondered if Air B&B had an alternative to taking a nap on Clinch Park Beach. Considered that a shower would be good for my morale.
That's when I found the Creekside Cabin of Interlochen on the Air B&B app. Not an Instant Book, the cabin took my reservation for twenty-five dollars, thirty-four with fees, and Sarah reached out to me, asking, "What time are you arriving"? I wrote back, "How about now"? She said, "Okay, you'll have the Bellows Cabin to yourself. Is that OK"? I said, "Coolness". And I paid my J&S Hamburg bill and tipped my waitress well and drove for Interlochen.
When I spotted the town of Interlochen, I saw all kinds of tents setting up in a parking lot, and parking, I discovered it was the Sunday Interlochen Farmers Market. So I picked up honeycrisp apples, sweet corn, tomatoes and home baked bread and a jar of hot mustard from ground from Michigan mustard seeds. My cabin contained a fridge, sink and stove, cookware and I filled the fridge with all my farmers market finds. Sarah gave me a set of flannel sheets, a down comforter, lit the fireplace pilot light, and I settled down for a nap in the comfort of a cabin built of cedar logs, my dreams rising from my head and playing around the high, peaked ceiling. The chamber was warm and drafty, and drafty air filled my stone-cold asleep inhalations with country oxygen.
When I aroused from my sleep, I realized I had landed in the perfect place, across the street from a restaurant and coffee house named Bud's, a famous place, once a resort. The Betsie and Platte Rivers were close by for kayaking and Tom's Market was close for shopping. The Hofbrau House required a short walk and beckoned me to show up and order a drink from one of fifty two microbrew taps. I immediately fired up my Air B&B app and reserved a second night. I had preparations for my future to pursue, and I had landed in the perfect place to focus upon all that.
How could I really become a Benzie County playboy, living rich off the land and loving my family and my neighbors? Now that goal required planning and deserved effort.