Ann Arbor, Michigan: Where Everyone Has a PhD, a Strong Opinion, and No Parking

Welcome to Ann Arbor, Michigan, the city that looked at the rest of the Great Lakes State and said, "We'll take it from here." Pop. 123,851 if you trust the 2020 census, and the fifth most populous city in Michigan, if you trust the Wikipedia entry. It is a town of brilliant minds, bottomless oat-milk lattes, and zoning disputes that could outlast the Roman Empire. Pack a tote bag and an opinion.

The Big House, the Bigger Ego, and the Mascot That Isn't

Let's start with football, because in Ann Arbor, everything starts with football, even when it's July. This past summer, Michigan Stadium hosted Morgan Wallen for two nights, and Detroit Lions star Aidan Hutchinson joined the walkout. The Big House, for the uninitiated, is the largest stadium in the Western Hemisphere, packing in more than 100,000 people on a fall Saturday. That's nearly as many humans as live in Ann Arbor itself, all of them yelling about the same thing.

Our roast card makes a fair point: the Wolverines have no costumed mascot. Michigan State gets Sparty, flexing like a Greek god who skipped leg day for the glory of the Spartans. Michigan gets... a wolverine on a helmet and a vague sense of superiority. The official line is that the school's pride is the mascot. That's a very Ann Arbor answer: why hire a guy in a furry suit when you can have a philosophical position?

Hash Bash: Berkeley's Midwestern Cousin Brings Snacks

Every April, Ann Arbor hosts one of America's oldest cannabis rallies, and the origin story is wilder than most college application essays. In late 1966, poet John Sinclair gave two joints to an undercover police officer and was rewarded with a 9½ to 10 year prison sentence. That was so outrageous that Abbie Hoffman crashed The Who's set at Woodstock to complain about it.

In December 1971, John Lennon and Yoko Ono performed for upwards of 15,000 supporters at Crisler Arena, and Lennon wrote a song titled "John Sinclair" for the occasion. Three days later, the Michigan Supreme Court ordered Sinclair released. The first Hash Bash followed on April 1, 1972, and by tradition it now happens on the first Saturday of April at high noon on the University of Michigan Diag.

Is it a little desperate to cosplay as California's hippie cousin? Sure. But when you can claim an actual John Lennon song, you've earned the right to be a little smug about it. And in true Ann Arbor fashion, Sinclair himself was among the first customers to buy marijuana when Michigan legalized it in 2019. That's what we call seeing a project through.

Zingerman's and the $38 Question

No Ann Arbor food conversation survives five minutes without Zingerman's, the deli that turned corned beef into a personality. Our roast card's reviewer was not impressed by a $38 barbecue trio, and honestly, "Not again even if free!" is the kind of review that makes a restaurateur stare at the ceiling for a while.

Here's the travel-blog truth: Zingerman's is a genuine institution, born in Kerrytown in 1982, and the sandwiches are legitimately enormous. You're paying for the sandwich, the story, and the 40-minute line where you'll overhear three conversations about sourdough starters and one about Kant. Go for the experience. Bring a friend to split the bill and your feelings.

Elite Public School Syndrome: A Diagnosis

Here's the thing about Ann Arbor: it is gorgeous. The Diag, the Law Quad, the Huron River winding past Gallup Park, Kerrytown on a Saturday morning. It's a college town that actually looks like the brochure. And yes, the University of Michigan is one of the most prestigious public universities in the country, which gives residents a swagger that irritates people in every other Michigan zip code. The roast card calls it pretentious. We'd call it "efficiently confident."

Politics here is a full-contact sport, and nobody's too busy to join. In August's primary, Yousef Rabhi beat incumbent Christopher Taylor in the Democratic mayoral race, and Rabhi is a Democratic Socialist. That's a primary between two progressives, which is the most Ann Arbor sentence imaginable. Meanwhile, the local paper reports that opponents of a townhouse project say it plainly: "Not in our backyard" in a city that also loudly demands more housing. Consistency is for lesser towns.

Should You Visit Ann Arbor?

Absolutely. Catch a football Saturday if you can handle the crowds, wander the Diag, eat a ridiculous sandwich, and wave at a Hash Bash veteran. Just don't ask where to park, and never, ever call it "just a college town."

Think we were too nice? See the full roast on RoastMyTown.com.