Foggy’s at Christmas

This is a story of desperation. Or nearly. Let me explain; I like football. (Okay, make that I truly love football. Okay, I admit it. I worship at the church of the NFL. I attend services faithfully every Sunday afternoon and Monday night. And, regardless of which team will be preaching the gospel of the gridiron, I will be attending services (in front of the nearest TV) without fail. But I must admit that I am a major Packer fan. And, unfortunately, over the years I’ve come to realize that I can’t count on the Packer game being shown on our local cable TV system. Now there are a lot of Packer fans around so this shouldn’t be happening. It makes me crazy. Actually, it would make me crazy even if I were the only Packer fan in the neighborhood. But as I mentioned, I am a major fan.

               Anyway, I was mentioning this dilemma to someone (actually it was my step-daughter) who suggested that I go to Foggy’s at Christmas. I replied that I didn’t want to have to wait until Christmas, that I would like to see my games right now. (I knew what she meant, I just never miss an opportunity to pick on her.) “No, No. Foggy’s over in Christmas on the west side of Munising. I promise, if the Packers are playing it’ll be on.” I figured what the heck. What have I got to lose? Worst that could happen was that I’d miss my game again.

               Pulling into Foggy’s brought back some old memories. I used to go there on Fridays and Saturdays for live Rock and Roll. It was THE place to go and I hadn’t been there in years.

I stepped through the door and my feelings of nostalgia fell away. I listened for the harps. There weren’t any but there should have been. I thought I’d gone to NFC Central Division heaven. On one TV is the Lions game, on another da Bears, and there before me, on a TV over the bar, my beloved Packers. I sat down and looking back at me was that very same step-daughter, my bartender. Her name is Marlea, though if you mention that around Foggy’s they don’t know who you’re talking about. Apparently they only know her as Lea in Christmas. I guess she needed an alter-ego or something.

               I settled in to watch my game and looked at the beer on tap. Labatt’s. Yes. Real beer. None of that light stuff for me. Out came my draft in a chilled mug. Wow things were looking better all the time. But soon would come the real test. Munchies.

               At half-time Marlea (or Lea depending on which side of Munising you’re on), who is a Lions fan (This has made for interesting Sundays in our house), was lamenting the state of their game and next to me was a Bears fan that was commenting that the only good player on their team was the field goal kicker. Of course my Packers were kicking major derriere that day. (Now I know what you’re thinking. Yeah the Packers haven’t done so well in the last couple of weeks but it wasn’t their fault! One of those games was during the new moon and we all know that Brett Favre doesn’t do well under a new moon when it’s over 63 degrees.  And the other game they lost was because Mars was too close to the earth and it influenced the rotation on the football.) But I digress. As I mentioned, it was halftime and halftime is time for the real test of a good bar. Halftime is munchie time.

               I ordered a Cheeseburger. To me a burger is one of those truly great things in life. You can do anything with it. As I’m watching the glorious replays of the first half, my burger comes. It towers before me condiments and extras poking out from every direction. I maneuver it into the perfect burger eating position and take that first bite. I can’t get my mouth completely over it and I’ve got a more than adequate mouth on me. (Yes, for all of those people who know me out there I do know what I just wrote.) It was great. Condiments oozing everywhere. It turned out to be a five-napkin burger. That could be a record.

               When I was done I looked at the menu again just to see what kind of items they had. If their other food was anything like that burger I was going to enjoy football at Foggy’s. The menu was wide and varied. There were Mexican entrees and Italian. There was a wide variety of sandwiches and subs. Pizzas. Appetizers and soups including chili. Dinners were fish, seafood and steaks.

               I got up and walked around during a streak of commercials remembering the days we used to road trip out to listen to music. The back section is a nice dining room with an extensive salad bar. Foggy has also installed a char grill for a “cook your own steak” option. And, for all you fish fans, Foggy’s one of the few places that still serves an all-you-can-eat fish dinner.       

               I returned to my seat with a profound feeling of satisfaction. Yes, life was again good. My Sundays were no longer a bust. Football, draft beer, munchies and a bartender I could harass mercilessly (It helps when they’re a relative, don’t try this on just any bartender.),  it doesn’t get any better than this. My desperate search was over. Football Sunday had been saved. Next to me the Bears fan jumped up yelling, they had won their first game. The field goal kicker had saved the day.

               On my way home I thought about my re-acquaintance with Foggy’s. It had been a long time since I had been out there, but it wouldn’t be a long time before I was back. Now it was THE place to go for football. Judging by the Redwings paraphernalia around I suspect it is also THE place for hockey as well.

               Foggy’s is located on M-28 across from the Christmas Casino Motel in Christmas, Michigan.