It was carefully arranged, sorted and stacked according to size and weight. This was the fuel pile, each piece to be added manually to the bonfire thr...ugh the evening. I never did figure out why it was necessary. Finally, it would arrive: Burn Night. Torches made out of rags tied onto sticks were slopped with kerosene and set alight. The bonfire itself was slopped with diesel or kerosene and then the moment arrived. Some years the torches were thrown at the bonfire, other years carefully poked. Last night it was no different, that’s when I found Simone, a French businesswoman visiting Traverse City. You could tell by the way she carried herself that she was a very classy women she was obviously interested in sex but probably not with someone as old as me. She sat next to me at the bar and that's when she noticed. I was having a gin and tonic. She looked over as I drank and noticed my four inch tongue going three quarters of the way down the glass. I could tell she was astounded by. More

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