this island was only 8 miles around and my only mode of transportation was a bike. you see, i didn't ride the bike because i didn't have a car, i rode the bike because cars were forbidden on the island.
if you didn't ride a bike, you rode in a carriage that was pulled by a horse. when you hailed a "taxi", it was a horse drawn carriage. a horse is a horse of course of course, but nobody likes horse poo on their shoes or bike wheels.
the overwhelming stench of horse shit was also mixed with the smell of fudge. do you know what horse shit and burnt fudge smell like in 90 degree august weather?
here's hoping you never do.
during my time living on this magical island i served and bartended at a restaurant that i also lived above. but not only did i live with my fellow coworkers i also lived with crazy jamacian ladies that acted like my island mothers all while speaking in a language that was supposed to be english - god knows that i couldn't understand them.
when i wasn't working i would spend my time drinking mass amounts of alcohol because there truly wasn't anything else to do. you worked, you drank, you worked, you drank. while we all partied our faces off i would tip my fellow bartenders 100% of the bill. it was a ridiculous, it's basically like we would just pass the same $20 bill around the island.
my sandwich was $7.95? Here's a $20, keep the change.
i would make $300 a night in tips, spend $150 the next day on my food and alcohol, have a day off and spend the other $150 the next night on my bar tab.
it's like the tips i made on the island was actually monopoly money.
one big excitement for me was to take a ferry to the mainland and go to walmart. i was itching to shop so badly that i thought the clothes i found at the middle of no where walmart were actually stylish.
hooking up with a 19 year old line cook was standard, so was having a man who didn't realize he was gay confession his love to you. when you would go on a company outing you would take a hayride up the hill while sipping on blackberry brandy.
yacht races brought the cutest men to the island and if you batted your eyelashes just right they would tip you more than the bill itself.
the magical island also made me think that all of the above mentioned was completely, 100% normal.
it's like a spell was cast on me. i went to the island with 6 friends who all left months before me. i couldn't leave, i didn't want to grow up. i even contemplated "following the sun" moving to florida to work on the beach - screw the degree i just completed.
it was a constant party and i didn't want it to stop. i was basically hiding on an island full of horse shit and fudge.
you would think that a story like this is an april fool's day joke but it's not. it's what life is really like on mackinac island, michigan.
even with the reality tv show type life i was living on the island i would love to go back