. . . at Bumper’s Landing in Harrison twp. Michigan is anything but ordinary. In fact, even though Carl and I are enjoying our second season on the river, we have not come close to getting a handle on this crazy place.
Just when we get all set for what we believe to be ahead, Bumper’s throws us a watery curve-ball. Upon arrival, it is never what we expect. Never bad, just not what is expected.
We have almost learned that when we are scheduled to be at Bumper’s, we merely try and hold on through the night; to let fate, destiny and the elements take their toll on the evening. That way, we really can’t be blamed in court.
It was kind of like that on Saturday. Our arrival had us setting up in the usual place, with the usual view on the usual river; but that was about where the similarities ended.
Right away we noticed that the people who were there earlier in the day, were primed and ready to launch. All that they needed was for us to light the fuse.
And . . . light the fuse . . . we did.
Our first set, that is usually a little more laid-back, by design, was much more aggressive, up-beat and passionate, right out of the gate.
That worked well, as the crowd responded without thinking. There were the tell-tale signs of a great party brewing everywhere you looked. The talking that had been the main course soon turned to the desert, as the infectious music filled the dance floor with happy revelers.
To say the beat and the melodies were unrelenting would be quite an understatement, since we barley even took a break, the entire night. This party needs music, and that is just what we do. Kinda.
The crowd was amazing. The night was filled with, laughter, food, music and drink. I can think of much worse ways to spend a night. There were a crowd of fifty something’s celebrating, an summer of reunion, as well. Oh no!
They seemed to enjoy themselves, even though they have all gotten older.
Our night was truly, one to remember. Music, good friends and ale, on the water. Not a bad way to celebrate a milestone, a lifetime or an evening.
. . . but, a long way from, just another Saturday night.
Rb
