Way to go, Zlati!

By Joel Thurtell

A friend gave me a ticket — free! — to the North American Auto Show.

Until the moment when I received the ticket, I had no plans to attend.

Parking, you know, is a pistol — and it ain’t free.

Then, of course, there’s lunch.

Expense it off!

joelontheroad will pay the bill!

Wait — there’s an idea.

JOTR could cover the car show!

But why?

Well, who knows?

Maybe I’ll run into that Detroit Free Press video star, Zlati Meyer.

Now, that would be a treat.

But no way would I want to follow her act.

She’s in what we used to call “the movies”!

Back in the day, when I myself was a Free Press reporter, I sat across an aisle from Zlati in the now-closed Free Press Oakland County office in Southfield.

I had no inkling then that Zlati would become a video sensation.

It doesn’t surprise me.

Never at a loss for words, and mostly witty ones, she was nevertheless toiling in the cage of daily news.

Cops and robbers.

Not a good fit.

If you sat within, say, 50 feet of Zlati’s desk, you could tell that cops briefs definitely were not the métier of this talented reporter who could not bridle her tongue.

You got a pretty good sketch of what was going on in Zlati’s life when you sat near her.

Zlati is definitely an East Coast gal.

I always thought her overview of Midwestern culture had a few gaps.

Gotta hand it to her —  she was trying to fill in the blanks.

For instance, there was the time Zlati decided to take her East Coast beau on what she deemed to be a typical Michigan outing.

Ice fishing.

Well, Zlati’s conception of what ice fishing might be.

In some alternate universe.

As a reporter from out-of-state, she may have gotten a somewhat warped view.

That view being that everyone in Michigan engages in the hallowed sport of sitting on his — yes HIS, not HERS!! — ass in a flimsy shack trying to stay warm and keep beer cold while watching a little flag called a tip-up that tells all Michiganders when a fish has taken bait under that hole that was cut in the ice inside the fishing shanty where fisherfolk try to keep warm while guzzling cold beer.

I grew up in Michigan, and the preceding sentence with redundancies and potential errors of fact sums up my knowledge of what goes on in the alleged sport of ice fishing.

A detailed knowledge of ice fishing would not, I hope, yield entry into my innermost being.

But a non-Michigan reporter assigned to cover this dual-peninsular state might be excused for thinking otherwise.

All of a sudden on late-winter days when there is a big thaw, news media are called upon to account for the idiotic behavior of ice fishermen.

Vehicles parked stupidly on ice get deep-sixed.

Men drinking beer are in danger of losing their lives as their chosen ice packs melt and six-packs vanish into open water.

Public safety agencies spend huge amounts of money saving the collective butts of morons too dim to understand that what freezes also melts.

Anyway, I suspect that was the image of ice fishermen that Zlati acquired as a non-Michigan reporter assigned to cover news in Michigan.

So, Zlati went to — I believe it was K-Mart — to purchase ice-fishing equipment.

As I recall, though, she was short on a few items that might have helped, such as warm clothing and a means of making a hole in the ice.

Not sure what she did about bait.

Worms definitely not Zlati’s schtick.

If I have the details wrong, please correct me, Zlati.

(I know you will!)

As I recall, there also was risk involved due to lack of experience in selecting a site to undertake the fishing experience.

In the end, the out-of-town guest may have acquired some wrong information about how ice-fishing is accomplished and hence how all of us Michiganders think.

But the story, as recounted by Zlati, was hilarous.

All the more so, because Zlati doesn’t spare her own ego when relating, blow by blow, all the muddle-headed details.

A very funny woman is Zlati Meyer, as her Free Press videos demonstrate.

Endowed with a great sensitivity to incongruity, Zlati takes that same eye for absurd detail and applies it to the North American International Auto Show.

What a treat!

Thank you, Zlati. I hope the Free Press keeps you on the laugh-a-second beat.

Now, whom of my large staff of reporters will I assign to cover the car show?

Not Pete Pizzicato, my music critic.

Not Melanie Munch, food writer.

Nor Ned Yardline, sports reporter.

Spike Kopee is on vacation (don’t tell the staff!)

I need Mary Typeset to read proof.

And Louis Littlefont, the professor, is an idiot.

Can’t imagine doing it myself, bucking traffic, paying to park and shelling out real money for lunch.

But if there’s no one else to go, what can I do?

Maybe I’ll run across Zlati.

Hey, I’ve got it:

Zlati could be my story!