Ah, Good Girls Go to Paris Crepes.
I had a bit of an issue with the parking meter on my way in,
I emptied my pockets of change into one meter, and it never changed status from expired. Even the parking meters are shiest-y here. Digging down deep in the bottom of my bag, I can feel my nails scraping against crumpled paper, old mint wrappers, and pins trying to push my way through to the coin, only to empty it into the other meter. Finally!, one that works. I pull my car up to the meter with “time” on it and proceed to walk up to the local crepery. As I approach, the smells dance their way over to the my nostrils and swirl around each one with anticipation. Motown’s playing overhead & all the women working behind the counter are wearing knit caps & black aprons, sporting imperfect but absolutely beautiful smiles. The customers all fit the bill, each from a different walk of life, some sort of artist, entrepreneur, music or bass head, a family of three in the corn it er, eating and still looking over the menu in awe, and me in the corner…like a fly on the wall….overseeing it all, life in the city.
It breathes, it smells, it feels, it is.
Good Saturday Morning Midtown, We’re off to a good start with the Annette Crepe.
Across the crepery from me is a table of five men, probably in their thirties.
Theyre telling the waitress how they are in town,and here, “studying” Detroit; how interesting this statement is to me. “Studying, Detroit?” Almost insulted, I swallow the lump in my throat and take another sip of coffee. There’s veterans of the city, “studying” Detroit, and representing it to the world, screaming to be heard, and no one looks but fellow Detroiters, yet, a group of electronic heads from another state come in with cameras and paper bracelets stamped by a company and now it’s time to listen to the man on the soap box?
Something is wrong here.
A few minutes pass by into me not noticing any real activity because I’m knee deep in my crepe, it’s so good. I look up to realize the entire restaurant is with these five men,, when they begin talking to all of them. Theres about 20 people here from out of town “Studying” Detroit. Now, I start to see the beauty in it.
Here I sit confused sipping on my luke warm coffee staring at this group of people crowd around a computer looking for directions around the city….to see whats next.
The man directing them on how to get around has a german accent, and non oe them look to be of the same decsent. Where are they from? And what are they doing in our ghost town city?
Detroiters aren’t always the friendliest of welcome committees, we know what we have and don’t want trespassers treading too heavily on our territory.
Maybe it’s just me, but I sit on the fence on that one, but sure am curious as hell as to where this group is going.
Maybe I’ll trail them a bit, just to see….
