A Boston Cooler and a Coney Dog

The Trip to Michigan, Part V: The Return!

Okay, so the horror movie is over. The surviving teenagers are driving home, older and wiser. They stop at a roadside hotdog restaurant and BWAH! The monster thought slain is still alive!

On the left is a Coca Cola float, on the
right is the one that says "Bwah!"

That, my friends, is a Vernor's and vanilla float. If that idea isn't hideous enough, there is a name for this, it's called a Boston Cooler. I thought Phredd was making this up, until he used the term with the waitress and she understood. Neither Phredd nor the waitress knew why it was called a Boston Cooler, and Phredd wondered aloud if people in Boston would know this monstrosity. Really Phredd? You think people in Boston know about this? If they did, Michigan would've been sued for slander decades ago.

Speaking of things to do Michigan, this whole Vernor's thing has really given me a good idea. Instead of a bunch of Great Lakes, wouldn't it be much tidier up there with just one big one? Just sort of push Michigan underwater, no one will care.

But, that's a Boston Cooler there. I had a sip and confess it's not as bad as straight Vernor's, but you thin poop with enough ice cream and I'll enjoy that too. I might prefer some corn-ridden Rocky Road to another Vernor's.

Nobody reads this blog, so I'm not going
to bother turning this photo the right way around.

The only Michigan cuisine anybody could mention were "coney dogs". Another item named after a far-off place (clearly somebody isn't happy with where they live). The internet told me it was a chili dog with a "secret sauce". We were eating at, I think, National Coney Dogs in the airport in some place in Michigan. It was brand new airport building, and the restaurant had only been open four days. It was clean and nice, and the ketchup hadn't had the silver safety seal picked off yet. That part was kind of neat.

The coney dog was okay, nothing special. It had mustard on it, under the chili, which was kind of good. It would sneak up on you and jump out in random mouthfuls. The hotdog was good, a finely ground dog more resembling a banger in texture. It had been boiled. Not bad, but not especially special, either. Not exactly the next Juicy Lucy set to catch my heart. Even the Michiganders who told me about coney's looked mildy embarassed.

C'mon Michigan. You can do better than this. Just go buy a bunch of cheese and bacon and some random meat and do what comes natural. I know you can do it. I believe in you.