I awoke at 9:30 this morning. Local time, of course. Took me about five minutes to get my bearings. I think an sms message actually woke me up, but I am not sure. I got out of bed and felt the stiffness – I am really getting too old. I began writing some of the trip up. I didn’t want to pay for Internet at the hotel; but I still had so much time that I eventually thought: “At least let me see what it costs.”

The Hyatt’s Internet is WLAN, provided by T-Mobile. They have various plans – including a $29.95 annual plan. What would have been interesting to me then was a $6.00 for 1 hour payment option – the best was that this variation came with a “first day is free” promotion. Unfortunately this was when I discovered that my mobile showed 11:00 while my watch showed 12:00 – the hotel’s alarm clock confirmed the 12:00 and I began to get ready; Joel was supposed to pick me up at 12:30, and all my gear was just sitting around as I had dropped it the night before.

68I got ready and checked out; by 12:30 I met Joel in front of the Hyatt and he proceeded to give me a little tour of Detroit. The downtom area, with a burned-out train station, and a complex of five towers. Forgot the name, have to check with Joel. We returned to Club Bart to meet with Corey, hit a local Taco Bell and finally the guys dropped me off at the airport.

Security at the airport was uptight as always. This is the first time I had to get out of my shoes for the xray scan. Alright, if it makes them happy. The whole checkin, security check, and walk to the gate (A60, if you know the airport) took maybe 15 minutes. As I write this I am on LH443 – with the same nice crew as on the way here – and enjoying the Business Class one final time.

Overall, it was a really great trip and I am very happy I flew over for their show. And on the danger of repeating myself: If you haven’t done so yet, [check out their show](http://www.coreyandjoelradio.com). Thanks to Misters Hall and Fragomeni for the great two days. If you ever make your way over the Big Pond, I’d love to return the favor.

38Finding my out of the airport was easy once I had given up on finding any type of shop there. I had forgotten the travel power socket adapters I had bought the day before. The little bastard pieces of plastic and metal were still sitting on my couch at home.

The trip was uneventful, the driver – a Mohammed – made small talk and complained about US customs and INS officials. Something about a young, abusive guest he had to drive to Canada once, who didn’t have her papers and pissed off the customs woman until the later stuck a camera up her snatch to check for drugs. In front of the security people, and the taxi driver.

By the time we arrived, I felt a bit of tiredness creep up on me. Forgot to ask the driver’s card. He was pretty nice and didn’t rip me off too badly if at all. I doubt he’ll ever read this, but I am sorry man, I didn’t mean to snub you.

The Hyatt itself was pretty nice, but it looked like it’s out in the middle of nowehere. This is a country where the car is the holy cow. Staff was really nice as well. Tamy, the receptionist, asked me whether I wanted to keys. I looked at her as if she was crazy.

“There is only me,” I replied, gesturing to indicate the empty air next to me.

“Well some guests ask for two keys,” she explained. My eyes narrowed. I thought the only reason for that would be if you want to give a key to some woman you pick up later. I didn’t say so, and just replied, “No, thanks, I won’t need that.”

The room was really nice, very spacious. Nice, big bed that I’ll only need about a third of. I took a shower, put on a new shirt, and went down again after a little while. At the reception, I ran into one of the really nice flight attendants from LH442. I didn’t recognize her at all at first; she looked totally different without the uniform. Much better too, but I didn’t be that kind of guy and didn’t mention it. I almost told her to come to the show – the topic had come up on the flight – when I saw she was with some guy who was waiting on a nearby couch. Don’t have to be a datewrecker here. Besides, I seriously wondered whether Corey & Joel would amuse flight attendants.

The hotel didn’t have a power socket adapter for me, so I went to the shopping mall across the street. If there was one white person in there – besides me, obviously – I didn’t notice them. And I did get some odd looks, too. Like a fish out of water, I guess. I did get an adapter at Radio Shack, for US$5.50. About what the whole set had cost me which I had forgotten at home.

I returned to the hotel and was tempted to ring Joel to see if I could get a ride to Ferndale, but I decided not to do that. I knew from what Tamy the receptionist had told me that a ride to Ferndale would be expensive. But I really didn’t want to be a bother and I figured it’d be more fun to just show up.

The taxi guy got a call ever minute – he seemed to be running a chauffeur business from his car – but he was nice enough. I still felt ripped off when he dropped me off outside Club Bart, but what the hell. I am a tourist, gotta fix the US economy by paying inflated taxi fares. Or, by the looks of this guy, sponsor terrorism.

I am just kidding.

We finally arrived at Club Bart; by now it was really dark outside. Club Bart, even from the outside, looks tiny. I paid the driver, and had him give me his number. Just in case. I stepped outside into the cool Detroit evening air and entered the Club.

Arrived in Detroit on time. Flying over the city showed already that this place is not very touristy. Typical American checkerboard city layout, sprawling as far as the eye could see.

There are two things you immediately notice about the Detroit airport. One is the horrible-looking, ancient carpet, and the 1960s feel it gives the place. The second thing is the signs that tell you where to go. They are blue, with white labeling – in what looks to me to be Chinese. No English. Nothing. Just chinese. There’s really only one way to go, too, so one might question whether you’d need signs anyway, but it’s quite strange that they’d have chinese-only signs. Maybe chinese people try to walk through walls if you don’t tell them what to do? Living in a highly-controlled society (or, a dictatorship, whatever) might do that to people, as George Orwell illustrated in “1984″.

A little while later, when there are actually choices about what way to take, the airport staff helpfully added Spanish text to the signs. Go figure.

Nonetheless, it was no problem to find the immigration section. The lines were short; I walked to one where the INS guy didn’t look too annoyed yet, figuring I might need a little patience on his part. In the background a martial announcer voice was talking over the PA. “All luggage must be processed before being transferred to connecting flights. Welcome to the United States.”

There was some delay in front of me because an old woman didn’t quite understand the instructions. The INS guy was patient with her – good, I had made the right choice. I waited. Somewhere, a tough black woman in uniform was yelling at people to stop using their mobiles. Rule #1 if you want to enter a foreign country: Always, always do what the signs tell you to do. At least until you passed the border controls.

A few minutes later, it was my turn. I immediately made a fool out of myself for forgetting to answer the rear side of the Visa Waiver form – a mistake I feel is pretty telling, considering the quality of the questions on that side. Have I ever been a terrorist or a member of the NSDAP? Sure, I’ll just say “yes” to these.

After I had managed to go through three pens (one of theirs, and two of mine) to answer all questions, and my forms were actually filled out completely, the guy went on to the interview section of the procedure.

“Are you here for business or personal reasons?”

“Personal.”

“How long do you intend to stay?”

I glanced at my watch. “About twenty-five hours.”

He looked at me. “And then you’ll leave again?”

“Yes.”

“Going where?”

“Back to Frankfurt.”

“What do you do here for just one day?”

“Well these guys I know are hosting a comedy show tonight and I figured it’d be fun to drop by.” I trailed off a little, realizing I must sound a little strange.

He paused just a beat. “Let me see your return ticket.”

I handed him the passenger receipt. “Don’t have the actual ticket yet, as it’s an electronic ticket,” I apologized.

At this point I was wondering whether he’d flag me as “suspicious” or “insane”. However he did take my fingerprints and my photo and stamped the approval on my visa.

“Isn’t that a little strange to come here all the way just for a … a what?” He asked as he handed me back my passport.

“Comedy show,” I replied and shrugged. I figured I might as well tell him about my employer; that usually helps people to understand a little better. He remained sceptical.

“Well,” he said. “Enjoy your show then. Welcome to the United States.”

“Thanks,” I told him. “If you wanna drop by, it’s at Club Bart in Ferndale at 10.”

“Believe me,” he laughed. “I’d love to see a show that someone’s flying over from Germany for. But I’ll have to stay here.”

We bidded each other farewell and I entered US territory.

77I’ll make a small end-of-the-week trip tomorrow. If all goes well, the schedule will proceed like so:

Thursday, March 23rd:

* Go to airport, 10:30 local
* Departure Frankfurt, 13:30 local on LH442
* Arrival Detroit, 16:40 local
* Check in at hotel (Hyatt Regency Dearborn), about 17:30 local
* Corey & Joel’s Live Show at Club Bart, 22:00 local
* Crash exhaustedly at hotel

Friday, March 24th:

* Sleep late
* Departure Detroit, 18:30 local on LH443

Saturday:

* Arrival Frankfurt, 8:30 local
* Arrival at home at 9:30 local

That’s 13400 kilometers in 47 hours. Cross your fingers.