Of Poles and Pools

Hey kids,

Erik and his frickin' raffles. Dude loves a good raffle.

You know, June was supposed to be a pretty chill month, and while it's true we haven't had much as far as major trips go, we have definitely been keeping ourselves busy socially.  Yours Truly was up to the hilt in hangout time this weekend:  Friday evening I accompanied Erik and Tom out to scenic Bay City for a Polish Festival (think Clare Irish Fest, just Polish instead of Irish), with proceeds going towards St. Stan's Catholic something-or-other, and then Saturday Mitch hosted his annual MeatFest blowout, smoking various types of meats alongside his now up-and-running saltwater pool.

Perfect weather, lots of whoop-ass food and drinks on hand, good times with friends and family, and plenty of great music. . .

. . . if you're into live polka music, that is.  Which I am not.

Check it out, America. . .

Erik, Tom and I drove out to Bay City in the evening around dinnertime in order to hit up that Polish festival they had going on.  Huge setup - rides, games, food stands, etc. - much like a county fair, definitely gave off some strong carnival vibes.

As could be imagined, the air was thick with sea gulls trying to nab french fries and popcorn and whatever else they could scavenge.

We had no interest in any of the 'carnie' crap, and made a bee-line straight for the beer tent (where a metal fence held in the event's drinkers like some kind of animal pen.)

Polka music is just awful.  It's crazy to think there's a huge portion of White Americans that hold this sort of music as sacred as I do with Irish music like, say, The Clancy Brothers.

People watching at these sorts of events is one of my all-time favorite pasttimes.

Erik and Tom, kicking off the evening with some beers.  The booze setup here was much like the Untapped Beer Festival Erik and I went to four or five years ago:  you purchase drink tickets for like $5 per ticket, then use those to get your drinks (so the vendors don't have to deal with money, change, etc.)

This beer tent was enormous - easily fitting hundreds of people inside.  A giant, cement 'dance floor' was in the center, with two band stages off to one side (there were two different polka bands playing throughout the evening, alternating sets between the two.)  This is one could find a decent majority of the city's senior citizen population.

Grabbing some polish dogs (I do not partake in such grossness.)

I smell Nazis afoot. . .

They had about fifty porta-Johns (however you spell that) lining the back perimeter of the beer area - probably the most I've ever seen in one space.  At least they were clean (for the most part.)

All you could hear throughout the evening was polka music and the distant shrieking of children's screams.

Tom runs into a former co-worker of his from his days at Taco Bell.  Small world.

This old-timer (who, coincidentally, was wearing the exact same shirt I used to wear all the time in College and the Peace Corps) was walking around a dog the size of a small horse.  He probably brought it along so he didn't have to drive home after drinking all evening - he could just throw a saddle on the damn thing and ride on off into the sunset.

Later on in the evening, the polka music still raging.  We hung out here until about, oh, 10pm, then decided to head on out and begin making our way back home.

The second you walked out of the beer tent/area, the vibe instantly changed:  no more polka music, no more old people, no more Polish anything - it was just some trashy, county fair, filled with wanna-be gang-bangers, teenagers, and all kinds of trailer trash.  I despise county fairs with a passion, and make it a point to never go to them.

Some giant-ass Catholic cathedral nearby.  Something tells me these guys aren't too hard up for spending money. . .

On our way back to Midland, we made a short stop-off in Auburn in order to grab a couple more beers and some fries, not quite ready to retire for the evening just yet.  I forget the name of the joint that we stopped off at - maybe it was The Hotel? (despite not being one) - but there was, like, three other patrons inside when we got there.  There was also a live cover band, compromised of 60-somethings doing FM classic rock standards.

The guitarist and drummer were both pretty talented, and I couldn't really hear the bassist at all, but the singer - some old lady - was garbage.  I'm assuming she was some band member's girlfriend, a la Yoko Ono.

End-of-the-night beers.

The next day, after completing some yard work and getting the fam together, Kris and I made our way over to the Bos residence for MeatFest.  Mitch invited folks over earlier in the day to make good use of the awesome weather and pool, so you best believe we pounced at that opportunity. 

This was not nearly as good as I had hoped.  Would definitely not purchase again.

Kelli and Kris, hanging out poolside.

We haven't taken advantage of this pool nearly as much as we should have this month.

Alayna brought along her friend, Cristina, with her.  You know, because she's totally incapable of interacting with the kids in this friend group that we've been seeing on a nearly weekly basis since, oh, 2018.

Pool shenanigans.

Smoking meat in the background.  Mitch was doing burnt pork ends, ribs, burgers, brats, dogs, wings, you name it.  Most of the other guys were bringing meats as well - tri-tips, more wings, bacon-wrapped jalapenos, chicken, etc. - but we Houghs brought sides.  I can't grill for shit.

There's no such thing as 'relaxing by the pool' with this many kids.  It's like watching Shamu at Sea World - there's a clearly-defined 'splash zone.'

As more and more people show up, some folks splintered off to a couple nearby sets of cornhole boards.  Mitch would eventually hold a tournament later in the evening.

Kids began to wind down from the pool after a couple hours as we got closer and closer to dinner.

Grillmaster Mitch checks in on folks' dogs and burgers.

Morgan and Mitch, whipping out the meat for dinner.

Like I've said, countless times before:  this group is not afraid to eat.

About 80% of the kids in this tribe of ours are girls, and most of them are all in the same grade (they just finished 6th, one year behind Abby and Ella.)  This group was formed because the moms all knew each other from their Girl Scout troop, and became friends that way (later roping in their husbands.)

The Larsons (Jackson is taller than me now, which is insane.)

Tom dices up some more meat.

This feasting lasted for hours - folks usually eat a meal, then come back and graze as long as the food's out.  Not a ton of skinny people in this group.

Adding another layer of sauce to the wings.

The Wives Club.  Mees, Danielle, Stephanie, Kelli, Susan and Nagatha Cristie.

Abby and Cristina, swooping in for snacks.

Getting my girls to sit down and eat meat is next to impossible.  Alayna usually will (whole-heartedly if there's sushi on hand), but getting Abby to eat anything these days is a trial in patience.

Bacon-wrapped pork thingies (I forget what they're called.)  Bacon makes everything taste better.

Morgan and I defeated Mitch and his son, Drew, in this championship round.  Not surprisingly, Morgan did 95% of the heavy lifting - I am incredibly inconsistent when it comes to throwing bags.

Drew and Morgan

Wouldn't be a proper pool party without someone accidentally falling into the pool. . .

Later on in the evening, Collier finally showed up (he was shooting a wedding that day and didn't roll in until nearly 10pm.)

The Dads (and Drew) hanging out at the mens table.  Still eating.

Abby, Ella, Jackson, and his friend that he brought, hanging out in the pool at the end of the night (they're all in the same grade at Northeast.)  And so ends yet another action-packed summer weekend with the Houghs.  See ya next time, America.

- Brian