Greetings From Michigan

Bryanboy, aka Bryan Grey-Yambao, is the Manila-based wunderkind fashion blogger who found himself in the spotlight after Marc Jacobs famously named a bag after him. In addition to penning his super-witty eponymous blog, he spends his time Fashion Week-hopping around the globe, sitting front row, and always wearing some elaborate haute-Filipino get-up. Here's what happened when he found himself at the Detroit airport.

Following my jaunt to Europe this past October for the Spring 2010 fashion shows, I flew straight to Detroit from Paris to visit my aunt who is battling cancer. I hadn't seen her in over three years, and I thought I'd surprise her before I headed off to New York City for my return flight to the Philippines.

I always travel unprepared. I cannot count the number of times I've booked airline tickets at the very last minute or have gone places where I don't know a single soul. I like to leave expectations behind, hop on a plane and cross that bridge when I get there.

For instance, I know absolutely nothing about the Great Lakes State. OK, it's America's automotive capital and these days, Madonna and Marshall Mathers are Detroit's greatest exports. But what else is there? Do they have gays? Do they have Asian people? Do they have Gay-sians? Armed with just my aunt's address and phone number, I was confident this trip to Detroit was going to be a piece of cake because, hello, it's America. Oh, how wrong I was.

I called my aunt as soon as the plane landed to let her know I had arrived safely. But since it was so late at night, she informed me that my uncle wouldn't be able to pick me up. I told her I wasn't 12 anymore, they shouldn't worry about me and I was gonna cab it.

I approached a cab and gave my destination. The first guy I spoke to broke into laughter, asking me if I was out of my mind. Five men and a few cigarettes later, I eventually found out that my aunt lives 180 miles away and that no cab driver was going to take me there. Renting a car, as one of them suggested (what most people do, apparently), was not an option. Not only do I not have a driver's license, I also don't know how to drive!

At this point, staying at an airport hotel was the easiest option. And my $60 a night classy, sassy room at the Clarion Hotel in Romulus, Michigan, ended up being my home for three days. I thought my humble room was very chic. There was something so fashion editorial-y and simultaneously pornographic about it.

The following day, I wasn't going to let my lack of transportation get in the way of my trip. I had two choices: I could either spend a few hundred dollars back and forth to my aunt's place, or I could take advantage of the downtime to relax after six weeks of traveling around the world and maybe catch up with my emails. I chose the latter.

Salvation came in the form of a simple Internet ad. Desperate times call for desperate measures. There's a reason why Craigslist and Manhunt exist, y'all! A few keystrokes brought me my savior, Travis, an unemployed 19-year-old Bruno doppelgänger from Fenton, Michigan. His means of transportation, which he called "the Tracker," had a hole in the gas line and was vandalized with multiple peace signs. It was a lawsuit waiting to happen.

But I do not have regrets about putting my life in the hands of this kid with two DUI charges to his name and a confiscated driver's license. He became my friend-slash-chauffeur-slash-tour guide.

Just like the old saying goes, strangers are friends you haven't met yet. We exchanged life stories and he introduced me to some of his buddies. We had $3.17 lunches—two hot dogs and a Diet Pepsi—at Speedway, enjoyed $9 bottles of Burnett's vodka from Meijer (watermelon is the best flavor, TRUST!) and dinner at Denny's. He drove me past Eight Mile and took me to various Detroit suburbs, including the oh-so-posh Royal Oak where there's—gasp—a gay café and an American Apparel! In the 48 hours that we spent together, he showed me a corner of real America. A real America with 20-wheeler monster trucks driving along I-94, that made New York City seem like a whole different planet altogether.

When I saw Travis's makeup kit (he's also an aspiring tranny), I couldn't believe my eyes. Everything was Avon. I honestly thought Avon was an urban legend. He buys makeup from his local Avon lady because he's been abused by homophobic makeup counter girls in the past. "That's how it works around here," he said.

What I learned from my trip is that America is full of angels. In the end, Travis even drove me to my aunt's place! My quick trip to Michigan has made me want to explore the rest of the United States. And since I've always wanted to go on a road trip… perhaps Wyoming, Wisconsin or Idaho next year? Hey, if Vermont captivated the heart of Kaiser Karl (that's Lagerfeld to you), I wonder what would happen if I visited Missouri. Anyone wanna take the Greyhound bus with me?

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