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The auto show gods smile upon me

One of the happiest days of my 2010 occurred when I opened my auto show schedule for the 2011 season. Guess who's NOT going to Detroit, bitches? ME. I could only be more thrilled if I were being sent on a tantric yoga retreat with Mike Rowe.

I freaking HATE the Detroit Auto Show. As in, I would rather dig out my own eyeballs with a rusty spoon and eat them than do the Detroit Auto Show. I don't feel safe for a single second I'm in that city. It's depressing, it's crime-ridden, and frankly the show itself has turned into a joke.

Manufacturers are doing more reveals every year at LA, Chicago and New York because the foreign press hates coming to Detroit - they know they'll get jumped outside of Slow's by some thug with a gun. (True story, happened to some of the show tech guys last year.)

We're running out of hotels to stay at because they aren't safe. One girl fought off a rapist in what was supposed to be a secured hallway in the hotel at the Ren Cen a few years ago. Hotel management refused to up security for us. Last year another girl was drugged in the hotel lounge of our new, supposedly safer hotel and was rescued by her team mates.

I've traveled extensively, and I've been to some damned dangerous places across the world in my lifetime. In only one of those places have I felt my safety was compromised as much as I feel it is in Detroit - and the other was a third world country with one of the highest rates of violent crime in the world.

I hate that half of Cobo Hall literally smells like sh!t because they use manure on the plants in the eco-section. It's a ten day show. You don't have to fertilize the plants. A little water now and then will do just fine.

I hate having to deal with walking through multiple layers of usually smoking union members pissed off at the entirely wrong entity, making my clothes stink and littering the entire show - even the wrong displays - with their propaganda-filled literature. (Newsflash: It isn't the fault of Germany or Japan that  Detroit factories are closing down. I suggest Googling "NAFTA" and "corporate greed.")

I hate that it's in the middle of winter on a freaking river across from Canada, which everyone knows is where Eskimos and polar bears live, and that means it's stupid cold.

And I really hate feeling this way, because some of my most favorite people, including many of my coworkers, are from Michigan - but they hate doing this show, too. Really the only bright spot of the whole show is defying death to sneak down to Greektown. And the bomb-sniffing dogs. They're nice.

So I'll be working my sweet little self through a different show instead. Please show the proper respect to my less fortunate Booth Babes who have to be there. Tonight I'll be sending a little prayer of thanks to the auto show gods, i.e. the lady that creates my season schedule and basically controls my life for almost half the year.

This post first appeared on Do You Come With The Car?, please read the originial post: here

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The auto show gods smile upon me


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