My throat is a little horsey...

A man walks up to a horse and says,

" Why the long face?"

A few years ago my wife and I went to Mackinac Island, (pronounced Makinaw Eye-lund), for a wedding of some good friends. It was a great long weekend in the middle of the summer. Our friends were to be wed at the Grand Hotel , a resort on the island with a famous long porch where they sell very pricey lemonade served by black people wearing white gloves. A Christopher Reeves/Jane Seymour movie , Somewhere In Time, was filmed there and every year, fans of the movie attend a convention on the island. My wife has just reminded me that Kathy Griffin refers to Jane Seymour as, "the most romantic woman in the world." As far as I know, S.I.T. is an Oscar nominated time-travel romance involving self-hypnosis. I have digressed.

The island is no easy place to get to, it involves flying to Detroit, then a small flight (or long drive) to Pelliston, a shuttle to Mackinac City where the final ferry leg escorts you across the channel to Mackinac Island: home of fudge, horses, and expensive lodging. It really is pleasant, there are no motor vehicles allowed on the island so the modes of transportation are limited to horse, horse and buggy, bicycles and walking. We sampled each mode and enjoyed the fantastic security of knowing you can cross the street without worrying about angry drivers, even if you do have to worry about horse droppings. Once accustomed to the smell of horse manure, Mackinac is a very relaxing place to spend a weekend. There is also no need to lock your rental bike because the ferry operators will not allow you to leave with a bike that has been marked by the rental companies. It is, at its best, an old-timey family paradise.

There were some unpleasant hiccoughs over the weekend. First, I was unaware of our room's unair-conditioned nature which prompted the first installment of my nighttime "no cuddling/touching rule." (The second installment came at the Hotel Continental in Barcelona, now and forever referred to as the Hotel Crapinental. The web site of the Crapinental says the rooms have A/C, that is a post-2003 development).

No A/C is an inexcusable blunder, but not embarrassing. The next error was embarrassing. I made a terrible (if you ask my wife) assumption regarding proper attire for the wedding. I must now mention that the groom had a famous last name. I assumed that his lineage would require nothing less than a black tie or at the least black tie optional affair. I then looked at the invitation and was reminded that it was a Sunday afternoon affair with most men in sport coats and women in light summer dresses. My wife wore a sequined gown alongside my cummerbund. The heat became an unexpected problem as the beautiful ancient chapel where the long catholic service was held was also unair-conditioned. I saw one friend mouth to his spouse, "Why is he wearing a tux?" I now know that those most established families feel no need to dress up and show people how wealthy they are, the understatement of it all is more revealing. The millionaire next door looks only slightly different from the millionaire at the end of the 1000 yard winding driveway.

In the end, the jacket and cummerbund came off so only my wife felt overdressed. She had a great time anyway. We both did.

One other comment about Mackinac: our flight from Pelliston to Detroit left too early for us to take the ferry off the island. We had to arrange for a small plane to meet us at the airport (an outhouse in the middle of a field) which then took us to Pelliston. It was the sort of plane where you have to climb on the wing to get in and we really enjoyed that little flight. Inexplicably, my wife is now, several years later, very frightened to be in small aircraft, or large aircraft. The horse and buggy, after several water and carrot breaks, delivered us to the airport/locked outhouse where the small plane landed a few minutes later. The cheery pilot loaded us and one other couple into the plane and we were on our way home to Miami. Miami, where you would never leave your bike on the street but where everyone is spared the scent of horse manure.