ENTRY FIVE: An Island in the sun...of Ohio
Everyone wants a place where they can get away from it all. A place that they can retreat to from their menial lives to forget about all their troubles and…well…basically…get drunk. You’re probably thinking to yourself, “Man, in order to do that, I’d have to go to Atlantic City, or Vegas, or Chuckie Cheese!” But I have found a place right here in the Midwest, a place where we can all go to forget about our boring lives. A place like Kokomo (Hella good song). And it’s called Put-In-Bay. An Island in Ohio.
When I first heard of this so-called “Island in Ohio” I was skeptical. After all, isn’t Ohio just a wannabe Illinois without a Chicago? Illinois doesn’t have any islands, so why should Ohio? Some say it’s part of a compensation for the crappiness of Cleveland, which I could believe, but I had to see it for myself. So I went there. Apparently there is a lake above Ohio, Lake Erie. The smallest of all the Great Lakes. And friends, size does matter. The only thing good in Lake Erie is Put-In-Bay. But it more than makes up for it. I will now try to explain the dynamic of this island, and why it is such an oasis in the Midwest.
Imagine a barbell. This is the shape of the island. One knob has all of the angry locals who ACTUALLY LIVE ON THE ISLAND. There is a fair assortment of trailer parks like most of Ohio, but there are mostly houses. This part of the island is a self-sustaining community. There is a school, Put-In-Bay School, grades K-12. Last years graduating class was 5. FIVE PEOPLE. 3 boys and 2 girls. Apparently they had a co-ed basketball team, and if you get injured on that team, GAME OVER. No sub for you! Come to think of it, I wonder whom they actually played? Maybe the staff of the local Dairy Queen or Taco Bell (these are the only fast food chains on the island).
If you cross the knob of the barbell, you come to the middle. This is the downtown. Imagine a 1930’s downtown, with Olde Style buildings and parks, littered with passed out drunks and kids trying to get drunk. This is Put-In-Bay. This is how the town survives, on the bars. They have the World’s Longest Bar at the Beer Barrel. Its about 150 feet, half a football field (why?). There are also assorted shops and restaurants in the downtown, but the strangest thing is that they are all staffed by foreign employees, mostly from Germany and Sweden. Now my question for those people is why would you spend your summer in OHIO when you live in Europe. I didn’t think Europe was that bad. Ohio must be some sort of Promised Land in Europe, like El Dorado, or Babylon cuz these people are very happy to be there. And let me tell you, there is nothing scarier than a very happy German lady trying to get your drink order late at night. Every time you hear “Can I take your order?” It comes out more as, “Vienershniztel da DA David Hasselhoff de Fuehrer?” And lemme tell ya, when it’s 1 in the morning and you’ve got a nice buzz going, it’s scary as all hell.
If you manage to get out of this part of the island sober, you can go to the other knob of the barbell, the tourist area. This is where my aunt owns a Bed and Breakfast. So I get to stay on the island for free, BOO-YAH! This is where you meet all of the weird folks, because people are only on this part of the island during the day, and most of them are hungover/coming down and just plain irritable. I will tell you a tale of a strange fellow I met there, a fellow named Harper.
You can tell by his name that this guy is a stoner. A hardcore stoner. He’s a 5’9 white guy with dreadlocks who is always complaining about how he can’t afford a Frisbee or a hacky sack and how he can’t find his shoes, which I think never existed. He’s my cousin’s best friend, a real statement about my cousin, but we won’t go there. Well anyway one time Harper, my cousin, and me all had to share a room. This was last year. I went in the bathroom to take a shower, and when I came back out, I noticed my deodorant was missing. Now, being the slick sleuth that I am, I recalled how Harper had said when he got out shower that he needed deodorant, so I stepped outside in only a towel to confront the swindling stoner. I said to Harper, “Hey man, do you have my deodorant?” Harper was playing Frisbee at the time and as soon as he heard me he stopped running. He then looked at me like a four-year-old to his mother…… and he ran. Oh, he ran. All the way OFF THE FREAKING ISLAND! Now this is quite a task. There is no bridge connecting the mainland to the island, so he had to run a mile to the ferry station, buy a ferry ticket, wait for the ferry to get there, and then get on the ferry and ride back which takes about twenty minutes. All for some Old Spice. He never called my cousin to say where he was going, he left all of his luggage on the island, and he probably did more physical activity than he had in years, all for my deodorant. I mean, if he asked me for it I would have given it to him. I didn’t have a special attachment to it, and I can sympathize with stoners and the “low fundage”. But he stole it, and that’s wrong.
I went back to island last week. And on the second day, Harper showed up. Still dreadlocked, still barefoot, and still fly. Now, in order to avoid an uncomfortable moment, I didn’t bring up the issue of the stolen toiletry when I first saw him. I waited a few days. So one night we were all sitting around a bonfire chilling out, and I asked him, “Harper, do you remember when you stole my deodorant?” And he goes, “Oh yeah!” I cannot even begin to explain what happened next. Harper stood up... reached into his cargo pocket... and pulled out my Old Spice. “Here ya go, I’ve been holding on to it till I saw you again,” he says. My jaw was on the ground. Here is my deodorant from over one year ago, in my hands. Harper says, “I never used it except that one day. Everytime I tried to use it after that I just felt guilty.” ....Well anyway, I threw it away cuz I don’t trust him. For all I know it could have been laced with heroin or something. But it feels good, the circle is complete. I got my deodorant back, and even though I didn’t want it, it just felt good to win.
I think everyone should go to Put-In-Bay at least once. Where else can you see a graduating class of 5, German waiters, The Longest Bar in the World, and kleptomaniac stoners…with a conscience. It’s always a good time at Put-In-Bay, the little Kokomo in Ohio.
Aruba, Jamaica, Ooo I wanna take ya,
Bermuda, Bahama, come on pretty mama,
Key Largo, Ohio, baby why don’t we go…
Down to Ohio
We’ll get there fast and then we’ll take it slow
That’s where we wanna go…
Put-In-Bay Ohio!
This land is your land, this land is Daveland