On South Bass

“I’m not climbing up those stairs,” Justin told me. It was mid-July, and we weren’t dressed for the heat.

“You silly bastard,” I replied. “You’re going up there. I want to see what everything looks like.”

We were on South Bass Island, visiting the small village of Put-in-Bay, Ohio. It was a place I hadn’t heard of until two days prior, but being that we were poised to be in the Cleveland-Sandusky region for a few days, I was definitely interested.

While my buddy Justin had already been there once (or twice; I don’t remember what he told me), I finally had convinced him to take the elevator up the Perry’s Victory and International Peace Memorial. After all, it’s the world’s largest Doric column, which means something, I suppose. His hesitance was brought on by a small few of three or so dollars that would be required to ascend. I must have spent ten minutes fishing around my pockets for quarters to help him out. He was already agitated because we made him pay for the rented golf cart we were driving around the island, so looking back, I guess I understand.

The ride up was awful. The elevator was tiny and packed with the most tourist-looking people on the planet. It smelled terrible too, some mix between the sweat and the elevator’s unique smell itself. A “park ranger”, as they called themselves, was on-board, spouting off facts about the Memorial itself.

Once at the top, you could see the whole island, which looked significantly smaller than it felt as we drove around. You could see mainland Ohio (it looked ugly compared to the island, in case you were wondering) and various other islands in every direction.

“Damn dude,” I said, turning to Justin. “I want to live here someday. It can’t be that expensive, right? What do you think? Few million for a house?”

He was preoccupied with another “park ranger” at the time.

“Do you have guns,” he asked.

“No, we’re not allowed to carry guns.” The ranger was visibly nervous.

“So I could hold everyone up here hostage, right,” he replied.

Everyone else (including myself, of course) thought it was funny, at least. The ranger sort of laughed it off, and I figured that he got this kind of thing all day, being that the island is a hot-spot for people our age.

After about ten minutes and numerous threats from Justin (“I’m going to throw this kid over the edge! If only you had a gun to stop me!”), we finally descended. He promptly raced out the back of the building, jumped in the golf cart and took off without me. And by took off without me, I mean that I jumped in front and he hit me with it.

We have plans to go back this summer. I’ll be sure to make him climb the stairs, ride the elevator and endure the suffering again. I think my excuse will be that I forgot exactly what it looks like.