Monday, January 6, 2014

Hank's Weddings & the Storage Facility for Dildos

Growing up, my grandparents spent winters in Arizona and summers in Michigan at a mobile home park for retirees nestled on the northwest corner of Lake Chemung. 

The drive took about thirty minutes from my home, included 7 turns, and I can say confidently that from the age of six I could navigate to and from with my eyes closed, in the dark, blindfolded, walking up hill both ways, etc. etc. etc. It is a route I took often, was very familiar with, and that I drove for years. 


Perhaps familiarity was the problem.


Around the third or fourth turn, on the corner of Burkhart Road and Grand River Avenue, was a run down grey cinderblock building with a sign out front that said Hank's Weddings. I wasn't able to find a website for Hank or a clear photograph of the building, but this Google Maps image gives you a pretty good idea of the overall atmosphere of the location.


From the looks of the building I imagined its occupant to be bearded and stained. A flannel-wearing fellow who, regardless of the time of day, sported both a Budweiser can and a cigarette. Whether or not Hank planned the weddings or officiated over them on location was never clear to me, but you're correct in thinking that this is depressing as shit. I imagined the type of people who got married at Hank's. How desperate and dirty would you have to be to get married by a smelly drunk guy in flannel?

The whole thing just never sat well with me, and for good reason.


As a card carrying member of the "I saw Father of the Bride more times than I can count" club, I can assert with confidence that Hank does not meet the standard requirements for wedding planners.


Franck Eggelhoffer, now there's a wedding planner.

I don't remember exactly when it was that I saw the "L". I'm pretty sure I was in my late teens or early twenties. One little letter... One sneaky little letter.


Hank did not plan weddings. Hank, was a welder.


Flash forward ten years, now living in Florida I'm on my way home from work heading to Applebees to pick up a salad, when a sign for a storage facility caught my attention. 


WHAT KIND OF A PERSON HAS SO MANY SEX TOYS THAT THAT THEY HAVE TO RENT A LOCKER FOR ADDITIONAL STORAGE SPACE?!!? HOW IS THIS EVEN A PROFITABLE BUSINESS!?

It was only after looking up the company online that I realized that "adult toys" meant boats and RVs.


I have learned nothing from Hank. Absolutely nothing.