Leaving the Isle

I'm writing this post from my dining room in a little suburb of Detroit. I drove a car today. I went out for breakfast. A truck just drove by, the pavement is hot, at night the streetlights turn on and the streets fill up with partiers, and when I want to go jump in the lake, I have absolutely zero options.

It's pretty weird.

I left the island on the Ranger III Saturday morning, and already I wouldn't mind going back. My last week was pretty rad, what with cliff-jumping at Conglomerate (if anyone has yet to go there, getcho butt in a boat NOW), causing a grease fire at the Ben East (you know how I do), and a rather wild water balloon fight. We had our interp farewell party, complete with awesome thermoses and delicious brats. There was swimming and jumping and boating and stargazing.

I hear you guys have had some wild weather out there; I shudder to think about the crowds that I'm sure are filling up Rock Harbor and Three Mile campgrounds. Beyond the weather, I'm not sure what's going on there right now - and thus, I leave you, and say farewell, because reporters with zip idea about what's going down tend to be pretty sucky reporters (not that there is any lack of them in our media, probably.) It's been fun to be your reporter. I'd love to be back. In the meantime, stay strong, live loud, treat the island well, leave some splash traces, and be nice to my fearsome foursome (now a threesome...ooh, that sounds exciting) and our fearless leader. Give Steve a high five for me.

With love from the mad bad streets of Deeeetroit -
Liz,
Your Snug Harbor Reporter

P.S. Oh, and you didn't think I'd leave you news-free, did you? My replacement should be starting shortly. His name is Vladimir Verstratski, and he just arrived from Russia. I know we're all looking forward to his posts.