The pandemic would mark the end of beautiful Aeroplan fixed pricing (i.e. 25,000 miles for anywhere in North America), plus the end of the trick where round-trip flights (25,000 miles) cost the same as a multi-stop flight.

Being able to add in an extra stop was a great thing for someone that can work remotely and shift around their work hours. This upstate hockey trip I was on was the last one of these great Aeroplan trips, where I saved by using Aeroplan miles to fly Deer Lake to Hartford (which would normally cost about $900), plus I added another random stop (Detroit) at no extra cost.

This allowed me to leave Hartford on Monday morning, detour to Detroit for 5 days, then fly Windsor to Deer Lake - all for the same amount of miles and fee charges as it would have cost to just go Deer Lake to Hartford round-trip.

Man, this used to be such a great life hack.

Anyway, landing in Detroit, obviously the Motor City wouldn't have an airport bus shuttle, so I rode a local city bus all the way down Michigan Avenue to the transit center.

A few days later, I was meeting up with Steve and Donnie for a Detroit night. Quickly stopping at a liquor store, we found ourselves in an area where we were seeing nothing in terms of abandoned buildings to tuck into and consume some clear/green glass bottle malt liquor in the cold, open air.

We finally came across a five-story abandoned apartment building that would have to do. The door was ajar just enough to squeeze inside.

Spirits were now a bit low, but Steve had thought ahead and messaged me to get the newest, awful Young Thug and trendy rap songs downloaded. Plus, I also threw in a traditional Newfoundland song where Donnie's mother's name was featured prominently in the main chorus.

The Young Thug played out perfectly, as Steve put it on slyly, then it went on for a couple of minutes before Donnie finally spit out, "you like this? Really? Are you fucking serious?!"

"F no I don't like this shit!" was the reply, haha.

Next up was Kayla Nicole's "Move Like A Snake", where Steve and I were both dancing and hissing, but this also, if you can believe it, wasn't lifting the spirits!

Thankfully things were getting better after playing that aforementioned traditional Newfoundland song about Donnie's Mom.

I also heartily laughed when Donnie was working out where I'd been prior to showing up for this Detroit visit. "So, how do you know this guy?", well, I replied, "he knew Nailhed, so I went to an abandoned building with him one time and then we went to Joe Louis Arena. Then one other time I was passing through New York and he met me at an Islanders game."

"So you've hung out with this guy two times? And then you went on a six-day road trip with him?" (pause) "That's so fucked. I'd never do that."

LOL! I love it.

Following the Grand Milford Apartments, I mentioned how I'd like to finally check out the Black Horse Cantina, which shocked the car as they couldn't believe I hadn't been. Of course we're always hanging out on West Jefferson down in Delray, but I missed the time when like eight of them all went here back in the day.

Anyway, I put a priority on visiting the Black Horse Cantina as I feared it might go away with nearby Zug Island dying down, but the cantina seemed healthy on our visit and they have plenty of food offerings on their facebook.

I loved the Black Horse Cantina to the point that I wanted to send it to this "Pictures of Dives" Twitter account I enjoy.

We chilled out and played some pool and it was fantastic. A couple of shots in, Steve soon remembered that I grew up with a pool table in my room.

Next up was the Alaskan Bar over on Michigan Ave., which none of us had been to, but the reality is we should have read their online bio and moved it up the to-do list.

"We are a dive bar. A true dive bar. Not a fancy Eater list dive bar."

We were hitting the jackpot tonight, as the Alaskan Bar was just as good as the Black Horse Cantina. Good mix of people, no vibing, the bartender was funny.

Nothing at all to complain about, just another great Detroit dive.

Negotiating late night deals.

I'm a gigantic fan of staying up until dawn. It's to the point that I once left a bar with a girl and she gave me the option of either watching the sunrise from a nearby park or going back to her house, and I was so fixated on staying up until sunrise, that I almost went with the option of going to the park, haha.

So you know I was excited as the sun rose, but then it was just disorienting when it became full-on daytime. It was to the point that the liquor stores were opening back up.

I sure was getting my fill prior to heading back to sleepy Newfoundland life.

We even stayed up into the morning when back in Windsor, lounging and listening to old Frayser Boy albums.

Eventually I had to pull chute because I absolutely couldn't stay up any longer. It felt as if someone had laid a sandbag upon my shoulders and I was in a continuous fight against being smushed into the ground.

Usually the late nights occur before I have to fly back to Newfoundland, so I can then sleep in airports and on planes to recoup.

Instead I had plans with Nailhed the next day, where I woke up late in the afternoon and was hurting. Still though, this was my only chance to see Nail on this trip, so I had to make it happen.

Donnie said there was no way he would be heading over to Detroit in his/my condition, lol.

Recently there had been a Detroit Free Press article about the disappearing "bar houses" of Wyandotte, where the third-last bar had been bought by the city and torn down - leaving only Frank's Cafe & the Gold Star Bar.

The city was doing this for that age-old, lame reason of trying to remove unconforming properties, where they want all of the housing to be in one area and all of the bars in another area and all of the industry in another area, etc. I say this is lame because I find cities much more interesting when they have little taverns like Frank's in unconventional areas, instead of say, out on a feeder road like Brews N' Cues in LaSalle.

I guess not everyone agrees with me though, as the owner of Frank's is quoted in the Detroit Free Press article as saying, “I get people who move into the neighborhood and they’re just appalled that there would be a bar. They want the bar tore down. Back in the day, it was a gem and now some people look at it as a nuisance.”

Inexplicably I didn't take any pictures inside Frank's, but their fried yellow perch was just what the doctor ordered and I was now feeling much more alive.

Next up was the other neighbourhood house bar left in Wyandotte, the Gold Star Bar. This building itself is a bit newer as it was built as a pool hall and blind pig in 1923, as opposed to Frank's Cafe, which is in an old farmhouse that dates to around the time of the Civil War.

A row of stools lined the bar, with a pool table at center and wood-grain covering a lot of the walls plus the big divider above the bar. As I always fear that the music is going to screech to a halt and everyone is going to turn around and eye you for not being a local, the total opposite happened here, where no one batted an eye at us. It was perfect, haha.

Eventually there was a guy who wanted to play Nailhed in pool, but he was totally cool and chill.

Initially concerned with finding at ATM at the Gold Star Bar because it looks like a cash-only spot (it is), I'd soon learn that beer is $1 a cup and $5 a pitcher.

That'll work! No need for an ATM when a few singles was all I needed.

Heading back to Detroit, we took the wrong exit and ended up on our way to Canada via the Ambassador Bridge.

I never knew what people do in this situation besides simply go to Canada, but Nailhed thankfully knew that you can go in the duty-free and get them to open a special gate, allowing one to drive back into America.

Neat!

It was still early as we returned to Detroit and both of us were thinking back to Christmas and how the ruins of the Michigan Pressed Brick Company would make the perfect bonfire spot.

With how everything would shut down soon after and how monumental it became just to visit America from that point forward, you best believe that these memories of a fine February bonfire were savoured more than normal.

Nailhed on the other hand, believes this is where I was the carrier that introduced Coronavirus to the citizens of Michigan, smh.

Eventually time came to get downtown as the tunnel bus was nearing its last run of the night. Carrying a bag of malt liquor to bring back to Newfoundland, I called Donnie and when no one answered, I had to accept that he hadn't been waiting up for me? The hell?

Going about my business, this bouncer on Chatham Street then had a problem with me bringing in said bag of malt liquor. The hell, again!

About an hour later I retrieved my plastic bag of booze from the traffic pylon where I hid it in the alley beside the old Ye Olde Steakhouse. Braving the cold as I walked down University Ave, I eventually turned south and eyed this old house that'd been recently abandoned. Still not hearing back from Donnie I figured my hand was now forced to use the abandoned house's porch as a great spot to kill time and crack a can of Bud Chelada.

Eventually rumbling down the six steps and moseying down the street, I found myself at Donnie's soon enough, where he hollered about how I should have called him more than once and how he would have definitely met up downtown.

Damn it! Oh well, sure I was going back to Newfoundland now, but I'd be back soon enough, right?

Right?