We Have Met Put-in-Bay and It Is Ours

Last weekend, we took the kids out to Put-in-Bay, Ohio.

For those who don't know about PIB, that's Ohio's version of "island living". To me, it's just another tourist trap that needed to be put out of it's misery by the Holmans.

Here we are on the ferry boat ride from Catawba Island (not an island, BTW) to PIB. In case you were wondering, that's a 3 o'clock sun on Lake Erie. Dad didn't have high hopes that PIB could entertain his brood for a full day.

Dad was probably right.

We rented a 6-person golf cart to travel around the island. Since it was Labor Day weekend, cars were not allowed on the island. We were one of the last ones to get a cart. If it wasn't for Erica getting into a fist fight with a line cutter, we would have been walking that God-forsaken island.

The kids thought the cart was "awesome". I think Erica is awesome. I'm also slightly scared of her.

Our first stop was the Perry Monument. It's under construction so we didn't try to climb it. Since it's taller than the Statue of Liberty, that's probably a good thing.

I got the kids to give their best impression of the monument.

This was their effort. I don't think Joey was into it, do you?



After a brief walk around the monument, we made our way back through town where the smell of booze, cheap lobster bisque and tattooed toothless biker babes was more than one could bear.

It makes one wonder what Canada thinks of us.

Anyway, Caroline, Henry and I decided we would tackle Perry's Cave -- another PIB tribute to the man who whooped the British navy in 1813.

Strangely, the kids got caught up in gem stone mining outside the cave (read: tourist trap for children).

Here's how it worked:

Spend $10 on a bag of sand. Yes, a bag of sand. Then, take it outside to dump in a screener.


Screen out the sand and look for gemstones in the bag.


Henry found a few "gems".

And if you look close enough, the "gems" are actually pieces of glass from the nearby booze huts.

In normal society, we call that a scam. In PIB, we call it family fun.

Granted, we never paid the $10 for the useless sand bag. No, not the Holmans. We just positioned ourselves at the end of the trough where all of the sand and "gems" had come out of the other suckers who paid the money for it.

We panned for gems like it was 1849 -- at other people's expense.

That's how you entertain a family during a recession.

Afterwards, we followed the cave and gemstone mining fiasco with some chocolate and fudge. Caroline was pretty happy to watch Mom tackle a chocolate-covered Twinkie.

Truthfully, so was I.

Josie was just happy to be out of the back seat of the golf cart.

PIB. Where else can you mix drunk, toothless tattooed freaks with family fun?

Please don't answer that. I don't want to know where we have to go next.