Saturday evening found The Boy and I venturing valiantly forth, clad in real live grown up clothes, headed out into the world. The Two Man Gentlemen Band was in town. Earlier this year, we’d headed all the way to Detroit to catch their show, so we weren’t going to miss out when they were just downtown.
As we pulled into the parking lot, I spied something of interest. Down at the end of a long stretch of buildings (conveniently located next to what I suspect may be A Certain Sort Of Establishment), were the remnants of a bridge. One of my bridges (‘my bridge’ meaning, in this case, a bridge built by the company I wrote my master’s thesis about…you already knew I was beset by strange enthusiasms, I might as well confess this one, too). Of course, this discovery mandated a bit of an exploratory detour.
There was clambering through weeds (discussion as to the nature of these weeds and the chances they were poison ivy ensued).
And there was lying down on railroad tracks to stare up into the guts of the thing (this is why it’s best if I don’t wear grown up clothes too often).
I predict there will be a future visit when next I have some knitting to photograph. Perhaps that purple hat and mitts that are still patiently awaiting their photo shoot…
Then, after a brief pause to brush off any lingering bridge detritus, we wandered back over to the concert venue. We enjoyed the musical stylings of the Two Man Gentlemen Band (now with bonus guest gentleman). I think we even managed to pass as the sort of normal, respectable adults who hadn’t just clambered over derelict bits of crumbling urban infrastructure.