Roasted Mar 9, 2026274 views3 shares277 pts
We're sorry. Actually, no we're not.
Welcome to Petoskey, where grown adults spend entire vacations hunched over beaches like demented prospectors, desperately searching for rocks that look like coral honeycombs. These people made fossilized dead sea creatures the state stone and then named the rock after the town's namesake, an Ottawa chief, because apparently Michigan's bar for geological excitement is underground-level low.
Petoskey's restaurant scene revolves around one fish like it's the second coming of caviar. Every menu features 'planked whitefish' like it's some revolutionary cooking technique instead of just putting fish on wood. The locals act like Great Lakes seafood is exotic when it's basically the aquatic equivalent of eating your neighbor's goldfish.
They named their downtown the 'Gaslight District' after its gaslight-style lamps, then filled it with shop after shop selling the exact same Petoskey stone jewelry and Michigan-themed t-shirts. It's like a Victorian-themed strip mall that thinks lamp posts make overpriced boutiques somehow 'historic charm.'
Petoskey won't shut up about Ernest Hemingway, like a young writer's stint in town makes your town special. They've turned his time on nearby Walloon Lake and his early years as a struggling twenty-something in Petoskey into a full marketing campaign, complete with plaques and self-guided tours, because nothing says 'literary significance' like commemorating the place a guy lived before he got good.
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