"How I Spent My Summer Vacation" - A true tale of one person's method of enjoying a little R&R (rest & relaxation) at a time when his "plate was over-flowing" and the world he knew was "crumbling at his feet." It has been said that "confession is good for the soul" or should it be "humor is good for the soul?" That, my friends, is for you to decide!
Labor Day Plus One
Or
"How I Spent My Summer Vacation"
Tom Hyland, September 5, 2000
Well, here I am, finally alone on historic Chincoteague Island, Virginia. I left Baltimore on Labor Day, Monday morning at 10:00 am. The island town was reached at 1:30 p.m., but I failed to get directions. I got two of the turns correctly, then I simply "didn't have a clue." After stopping and asking three different people (two at a local restaurant) no one could help me. As there was no real hurry, I casually meandered all over the island, trying to remember something familiar, or maybe even find an actual sign for the campground. After all, it had been six or seven years since I had been here last. When I eventually located the local police Department, where I got directions, sure enough, I was only less than a half-mile away. However, the correct name was Pine Grove – not Pine Oaks – which I had been asking about - Duh!
My niece Inez and little Jim were surprised to see me when I pulled up around 2:30 p.m. After chatting and hanging out with them for a couple of hours, we went to the local Dollar General Store to get a few things.
It never ceases to amaze me, we humans have the tendency to drive 180 or more miles to get somewhere, usually packing everything but the proverbial kitchen sink, and shortly after arrival at our destination, then we can't wait to go "shopping."
Anyway, I got my nephew a package of little toy plastic musical instruments which he had picked out, found Mom and checked out, as our "spree" was over. Well, by now, "Nature was calling me" don't you know, and my bladder was going to burst, or so it felt. It was broad daylight, there wasn't enough time to return to camp, nor to reach the main road and a service station. So, what's a fella to do? You got it! Inez whisked the 4X4 around to the rear of the building where there were three really big dumpsters, and plenty of bushes, and yours truly jumped out and "did his business." How do you spell relief? PSSSSS . . . PSSSSS . . . PSSSSS . .
Well, as luck would have it, although this spot seemed to present the epitome of privacy, there was a little pony farm on the other side of the bushes, and within close earshot I could clearly hear two women talking to a man about a horse! If I could hear them, then they could hear me, so I just closed my eyes and prayed that they thought it was a pony peeing! Anyway, I didn't get locked up for indecent exposure, felt about a gallon lighter, and we then took off for downtown Ocean City, Maryland, to pick up Daddy Jim.
He had left at six o'clock that morning, and gone on an ocean fishing trip that lasted twelve hours. He and his five friends had previously been scheduled weeks before, but bad weather had canceled their trip, so we were hoping that the fishing had been good. We met Jim at the pier, and then went inside to relax with a couple of drinks. While Jim told us about the few, but big fish they caught, three yellow-fin tunas (65, 40, and 30 pounds) and a couple of some kind of fake (imitation, false, or something like that?) albacores. You will note that I am no fisherman, and I didn't have a clue as to what he was talking about. Whatever they are, they have very bloody meat, and are "yucky" to eat.
As Jim expounded upon the fierce battles between man and nature, we all enjoyed watching little Jim struggling with knocking the balls in the pockets on the pool table, which was about chest high to the little tyke. Well, by and by, when the fish story was over, off we all went to the "Boards." After finding a spot to park, close to the boardwalk, we found The Dough Roller, and all enjoyed a really good pizza, along with french-fries, onion rings, and mozzarella sticks. During our leisurely dinner, we naturally heard more details about the fishing expedition, and when we finally finished, off to the "Kiddie Rides" we went.
Jimmy had a swell time, won a little stuffed "Odie" dog, and wore us three adults out, pretty good! When we arrived back at the campground around 10:30 p.m., and tucked the little three-year-old away in bed, we sat outside, relaxing, and gabbing, and sucking down the "Nectar of the gods" Bailey's Irish Cream, on the rocks. Smoooooooooth! Ah, it was a perfect end to a busy, rainy, rainy day.
When the grown-ups finally "hit the hay" around midnight, it had become quite a bit windy and cool, thus no A/C was needed that night.Somewhere around the crack of dawn, little Jimmy announced something about something outside being broken, and he was quite excited about it, but it was just too early for us to share his excitement, and whatever it was it wasn't going anywhere, so we managed to get a couple more hours of "shut-eye."
I awakened to the delightful smell of freshly brewed coffee, staggered into the "head" to do my little "tinkle " thing, fixed a big mug of hot java , and joined big Jim outside. Well, the young lad was right! The winds had caught the old awning at its weakest point, where it was attached to the top rail of the camper, and ripped it across its entire twenty-four foot length. Naturally, this released the entire weight of the spring-loaded retraction roller, and the whole thing dropped to the ground, luckily not breaking any of the lawn chairs, as the picnic table bore most of the brunt of the impact.
Jim and I did a quick survey of the other minor damages to the telescoping support rods and clips, removed the awning from the big spool, and he now had a terrific new "drop cloth" for painting, or whatever. In fact, shortly after we folded the sucker up, little Jim asked his Dad to make him a tent. Within minutes, a quick expanse of clothesline was rigged between two trees, the tarp was draped over, and Jimmy carried and placed some firewood on the edges as ballast. The lil lad had his miniature lawn chair inside the tent, in a reclining position, in no time at all. Jimmy is quite a little bundle of energy, and very, very inquisitive. He is all boy, and can be quite tough; yet, I noticed how super gentle he was with the little baby frogs he loved to catch. In fact, when he was moving the pile of firewood, he found two big adult frogs, which we immediately told him, were the "Mommy and Daddy" so that when he did release them later, they would be all together, as a family should be.
After proudly showing everyone what he had in his plastic cup, when Mom or Dad told him it was time to let them go home, he would gently release them, without fussing at all. It was nice to see a child who respected nature.By now, Inez whipped up some little pancakes for breakfast, and we all planned our agenda for the day.
It was decided that Jim would take me on a guided tour of the island, while Mom and son went to the Memorial Park playground. Jim's friend Sandy had recently purchased a modular home, so we stopped by, chatted awhile, and got the "cook's tour" of his place. Sandy had mentioned another larger home that was for sale, so we got directions, and went to "check it out." Both Jim and I were very impressed with what we saw, not only the structure itself, but also the quite sizable lot, so we rushed to a phone and he left a message expressing his interest in seeing the house. Then we rode to a nearby marina which was also for sale, and Jim wanted me to see it.
While there was a sizable waterfront with five rental units, and a small bait and tackle unit, there wasn't much land left to construct living quarters for his family. That is why Jim was so interested in the other home. Just as we finished our brief visual survey, Inez and Jimmy pulled up next to us. Jim gave her directions, so we could meet them there. Well, let me tell you, they were both impressed also! Everyone was so excited about the prospect, I even told them, "if you don't buy it, I will!" Another quick trip was made to the main "drag" and Jim left another message.
By now, we were all starving, as lunchtime had come and gone. So we stopped and picked up some "subs" and other "grub", returned to the camper, and all "pigged out." After packing up their paraphernalia for their return home to Pasadena, they all left about four-thirty in the afternoon.
Meanwhile, I went to the campground office to settle my "tab" for the next two days. While there, I picked up some postcards and browsed around a bit. To my atonishment, there on the counter, underneath the clear glass cover, nestled amid several pictures, was one that immediately caught my eye. It was the owner's wife, Wanda, standing there smiling, right next to a famous Movie-Star! "Who was it?" you may ask. it was none other than Muriel Hemingway! They are both - beautiful ladies!Next, I called my daughter's home and left the camp phone number, in case of an emergency, and to remind her to check on my dog Heather's "separation anxiety" back home, without me. You see, I have never been away from her for more than a day or two, in over eight years now, and I shall be gone for an entire week. "Daddy" worries about his "little Missy" doggie!
It is now six-o-five in the evening, and I shall now take a "beer break" from writing this "epistle" and take care of writing my postcards, so they can be mailed in the morning.
Howdy! I'm back! Well, it is now Thursday, the seventh, around one in the afternoon. Two days have passed, rather rapidly, and I have truly enjoyed the peacefulness of this quiet little town and campground. This past Tuesday, around nine at night, I put my completed postcards in the mailbox in front of the Post Office, then went up to Don's on Main Street, hoping for a little "R&R" shooting pool. Alas, it was dark, and obviously closed. Even Chattie's Lounge on the second floor was also desolate. So, I motored from the north end of the island, to the south end, looking for another place, called "A.J.'s" No luck! As I widened my search, I finally found Pony Pines Restaurant and Lounge. It's a pretty nice place, but it was very, very quiet. There were only about eight people in the entire bar. Shortly after I ordered a beer, a young couple from Calvert County (they pronounced it Culver) sat down next to me, and we chatted for a while. Floyd was a civil engineer, who previously worked in downtown Baltimore, at the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, and Pat was a former Bostonian whose dad was a retired Naval officer. They immediately picked up on my accent, and guessed I was from Balmer, Merlin!
We exchanged some stories and enjoyed chatting for about an hour. By and by, I noticed that there was some "action" on the pool tables, so I got some quarters and bid them a good night. There was another young couple on one table, so I challenged for the next game. Nicole Collette was of French descent, and quite a good "stick." She was tiny and very pleasant. Ian (naturally Irish like me) was a young blonde-haired lad who was also a good "shooter" and very friendly too. We shot several games over the next hour or so, and I actually managed to win a couple – pretty lucky! Nicole and Ian both worked in the restaurant there, as well as full-time day jobs elsewhere. When they left, around eleven, I returned to the bar, had a few more Coor's Lites, and just observed. To my immediate right, a small group of people were doing "shooters" and laughing about various crazy names of same. Somewhere along the line, I joined in the conversation and mentioned one from a place on York Road, called "Swallow at the Hollow." It was "I won't **** in your mouth" which was an instant hit, with belly-laughs all around. The next thing I knew, it was like old home week. Both Dan and J.R. were from Baltimore, and we had some mutual acquaintances in common, like Billy Hartlove, the owner of "Hartlove's" Tavern on Fort Avenue. When I learned that J.R.'s last name was Suit, and he had a relative named Elmer Suit, I told him we were some kind of second or third-hand long lost "cousins!" Small World! Well, we gabbed until about twelve-thirty in the morning, then all left to get some "Z's."
When I got back to the camper and got out of the car, I only took about three steps and WHAM! I stubbed my left foot on the metal fire-ring, which was well hidden in the darkness. Well, let me tell you, Wednesday morning when I got up to go "potty" I was limping. It hurt real good! After a careful, slow sock removal I discovered my center toe was a beautiful shade of maroon. I really jammed that little "piggy' pretty good. After a few painful wiggling exercises I determined that it probably wasn't broken, just badly bruised. After doing the three "S's" and having some breakfast, I completed another "piece" I had been writing concurrently with this one. While I was putting the final touches to it, someone knocked on the door. It was one of the maintenance crew, who asked me if I knew that I had a leak in the rear of the camper. A quick inspection told us that the old broken petcock on the hot water heater had finally "given up the ghost" and was profusely squirting two streams of water at once. I turned off the supply hose and thanked the man for telling me.
Luckily, Jim had purchased a new fitting the day before and stored it inside a drawer in the camper. It was a short ten-minute job, just swapping out the parts, using my trusty toolkit from my trunk. By now, it was late afternoon, and I decided to do the "normal" thing, go "shopping" in town. The local Supermarket on Main Street supplied me with some "oleo" and some nice fresh French rolls, then I drove to the end of the lot, toward the piers, and got out to explore a bit. I hobbled around awhile, sight-seeing some shops, and taking pictures of the waterfront. There was a big old trawler moored at this location that truly exemplified the term, "rust-bucket." It was so rusty that I was surprised that it was still afloat, and I have pictures to prove it!
While in The Brant Christmas Shop, I bought some small scented candles for my daughter Ann, and a little tree- trimmer ornament for Jeane at work. she saves snowmen, so I got her this peg-legged, carrot-nosed Captain Snowman. I know she'll like it!
As it was a sunny, but cool and windy day, I explored the island by car, traveling to the extreme southern end, clicking my little "Fuji" as tourists are known to do. When the hunger pangs finally hit me, my Honda Civic and I returned to the camper for some late lunch. Ah! Leftover "Za" and corn-on-the-cob, dripping with fat-free Fleischman's margarine! It was good, but it could have been better if I could have found some "Old Bay Seasoning." Believe me, I searched every nook and cranny of that camper, and just couldn't believe that Jim and Inez were able to survive there without it! Oh, well!
After lunch, I got out my spool of black braided nylon fishing line and my trusty set of big old sewing needles. It was time to do some really important work. It was a project involving safety, my personal safety. The next hour and a half was spent sitting in my driver's seat, re-stitching my shoulder belt. I had previously done a quick-fix tacking job, but now I was doing a thorough repair. You see, last week while I was in a Royal Farm store for only five minutes, getting a cup of coffee, my beloved dog Heather decided to chomp off my seatbelt, because she had an anxiety attack! I could have killed her at the time. Even though it's only a ‘97, it's new to me, having only had it for a month. Anyway, now it's fixed - - - at least until next time!
Well, I have now written for over a hour, and therefore have earned a "beer-break." Later, I shall attempt another little car project, the installation of a Remote Control Command System. Wish me luck!
Hello! Back again at five-thirty in the evening, but forget about the Remote Control System! Even though I thoroughly read all the instructions last night, and became familiar with all the cute little ‘gizmo' parts, the very first step was to install the receiver under the dash, and then plug the radio antenna into it. Good Luck! I couldn't find an access to even touch or feel the side or back of the radio! This "sucker" is built like Fort Knox! I did get the bright idea of removing the glove box, but there was no access. Between all of the ducts and wires, and metal braces, and such, I was stumped! Methinks this job would best be done by a professional. Let's face it, my family and friends don't call me "Rube Goldberg" for nothing! I would probably "screw" something up, or accidentally trigger an air-bag, and trap myself. They would find me someday, squashed, or electrocuted, or something - later, it can wait!
So, just how did I "fritter away" those three hours? Easy! I did a whole bunch of little "ten- minute" jobs, fixing things in the camper. First, I wrote up a semi-complex Procedures List, on how to close up the camper before leaving. That had to blow at least one hour! Next, I mixed up some JB Weld epoxy, and repaired the bathroom door-knob. That really works fine! Then I "jury-rigged" a defective closet latch that really needs a replacement part, but the camper supply store was closed. Anyway, the "temporary" fix actually worked! I also checked on yesterday's petcock valve job - and it is not leaking . . . SURPRISE, SURPRISE !!! There remains one more little task to accomplish, but I need to go back to town to buy cement glue, so that will wait. I did try the campground store, but they didn't have any, so I just got a bag of ice. Note: this is a very critical factor when camping . . . one must ALWAYS keep the beer cooler COLD! Even though we have electricity and a "fridge" we don't want to waste space therein that could occupy FOOD, doncha' know!Oh!
Another brilliant deduction occurred to me today, around noon. After a day and a night of listening to the only two stations that came in clearly on the little alarm radio (Jesus and Jazz), I finally noticed the built-in Stereo system, mounted high above the "fridge." WOW! Real sound, along with 106.5 Golden Oldies! It was like I died and went to heaven! As I now sit and scribble these "pearls of wisdom," truly enjoying tunes like, "Monday, Monday' by the Mamas and Papas and "Heartbreak Hotel" by my man, Elvis, it dawns on me . . . I better rush to the Dollar store and get my glue, before the whole dog-gone island closes up! C-Ya later!
Now it's still Wednesday, the sixth, around six-thirty p.m., and the $ store didn't have any glue, none! After trying three other places, I finally found Elmer's Super glue in a Supermarket . . . how poetic! I got back, located the plastic U-shaped strip of plastic that a little certain "somebody" had broken off the back of the kitchen booth, applied the glue, and taped it in position with some black electrical tape. Might work! We'll see in the morning.
Well, we'll write a while longer, until it's time for the three "S's" again, and then after I get done getting "spruced up," old Honda and me will mosey back to town and get some dinner. We'll get a little earlier start tonight, and maybe Chattie's will be open, and we'll get some of those Stone-crab claws that we had several years ago. Oops! I parked, went up the outside steps, walked inside, and even though all the lights were on, there was not one single, solitary soul in the place! NO ONE! NADA! Not even a barmaid, or any other employee! I walked from one end all the way around to the other, calling out, "Hello?" Hello?" Bummer! Well, needless to say my good old bladder was working fine, as usual, so I made a quick "pit-stop" (in the John, of course, not that anyone would have even noticed if I had gone in the middle of the dance-floor) and then I slowly ambled out the door and down the steps. My trusty steed was waiting for me, so Honda and I went elsewhere. While driving down the main drag, Maddox Road, lo and behold! there on the left side, I passed the place I was looking for the other night, "A.J.'s." Oh, boy! Maybe this would be a "hopping" place with actual live people! A quick u-turn, and into the parking lot, we strode. It was a nice little bar, about half-full, with maybe almost ten "locals." I treated myself to a large draft of Killian's Irish Red, and within minutes was in a good conversation with a local plumber named Nolan. He was a friendly chap, been down there about thirty years, and had just returned from vacation in another state! How odd! I estimated that he might be just a tad senior to me, and we talked about "sweating copper" and other little exchanges of plumbing stories.
The barmaid's name was Amy, who was quite nice, pretty, and certainly well-endowed. As the music played in the background, and she washed glasses, or filled orders, or even stood chatting, her little "caboose" was wiggle-waggling quite enticingly! Quite frankly, we were both impressed, and that was the most "action" I had seen on the entire island, for three days and three nights! Gradually more and more people arrived, with the "tourists" sitting mostly in the booths around the perimeter, or at the outside tables, and the "locals" all "bellying up to the bar." Nolan was telling us about the new little dog he had recently gotten for his wife, which was full-grown, pedigreed, and would never weigh more than about six pounds. Naturally, the name of the breed totally escapes me, as I had never heard of it before. It had long wiry hair, a curly tail, and sharp, pointed ears, and was quite intelligent. It might have been a French name, but I honestly don't have a clue! If you read all this "horn-swaggle" and know the answer, please E-mail me at:poesyco.bigfoot.com or else I shan't sleep for several fort-nights!
Anyway, after another cold "brewski" and some more dog stories, I decided that I better go through the door to the restaurant and get a "bite to eat." WHOOPS! Too late! It was closed. So, after bidding all my new friends "adieu" off I rode into the sunset, on my trusty "charger" hoping to find something open so I wouldn't starve to death. Luckily, the little sub-shop was still open, and I got myself a pizza sub, with extra mozzarella. I gobbled it all down by the time I reached Pony Pines, walked in, and son-of-a-gun, there was Floyd and Pat, sitting on the same stools as the night before. I ambled up to my same stool, to the left of Pat, and said, "Hey, have you guys been sitting here for twenty-four hours?" They said, "Sure enough, what's been keeping you? We were getting tired of waiting!" We all got a chuckle, and they introduced me to Pat's cousin Ron, who had just arrived at Chincoteague that day.
After a little while, the two guys went to the other end, to shoot some "eight-ball" and Pat and I chatted like we had known each other for years. She shared some stories about her younger days, when her Dad was stationed at The Pentagon, and I babbled about some of my escapades in basic training at Fort Knox, and advanced training at Fort Ustis. Around eleven-thirty or so, I was a tired little "dogie" so I hit the trail for my little campsite. Needless to say, the outside light on the camper was purposely burning brightly this night, and I carefully snuck around that old fire-ring, so it could not jump out and "bite" me!
Amazingly enough, even though I had no reason whatsoever to get up early, and no alarm was set, after all, I was on vacation, my eyes popped open at six-thirty a.m., and I got up and drained my trusty old bladder! Well, it's good to know, when you just turned sixty, that your "plumbing" still works! As I limped around the camper very gingerly, not wishing to do something stupid, like stubbing a sore toe, I made some instant Taster's Choice coffee, then sat and relaxed to the Golden Oldies, and started working on my fifth New York Times' crossword puzzle. I never leave home without one! The sun was up, it was still a little chilly, but it looked like it was going to be the best day so far. About two hours and three cups later, (and two aspirins and about six vitamin pills) I realized that the old injured toe was doing pretty good, so I figured that right after the ritual of the three "S's' I'd take the little old guy for a walk and some exercise.
Armed with another steaming cup of "java " and my trusty camera, we strolled over towards the entrance road to Don and Wanda's Refuge. I'm not sure, but I think someone said that they had about fourteen acres, and only about two were occupied by the campground. When I reached the fenced enclosure, I could hear the gaggle of goats "bah-bah-ing". I think gaggle rhymes better than herd. Anyway, the old leader, a white "Billie" with prominent horns trumpeted out a signal, and they all started following him. About half were white, and the other sixty percent (just seeing if you were paying attention, this is not rocket science) were mottled brown and white. There were quite a few "young-uns" and as they slowly walked from my far right towards the left end of the obvious marshlands, with little islands hither and yon, I noticed that one poor little fella was having difficulty, as he was limping on three legs. His right front one was injured, and the little "trooper" though slower than the rest, did make it to the end. I couldn't help but notice that each time he stopped to take a little "breather" two of the other adults stayed right next to him, and waited until he was ready again. Although I did snap a few pictures, they were not close enough for good shots. All in all, I counted about twenty or more goats. After a brief meeting, and probably a "head-count" the leader signaled again, and the trek began anew, reversing their course to whence they had come. My cup runneth empty now, so back to my base for a light repast of rolls and oleo, and more puzzling.
By the way, the glue job did hold, and the repaired molding was almost good as new. Knowing that this would be my last day on the island, I did a little organizing of all of my "stuff"as well as some house-cleaning, and "policing" the exterior campsite. Afterwards, I spent some time revising and editing the other article which I had almost completed. I had originally entitled it "Where In The World Is Giggle G.?" but after some further reflection, I think I will need to come up with something more apropos. We'll decide later, when we get home next week, and enter all this "drivel" in my trusty PC.
Anyway, by late morning, I had a leisurely drive around the island again, just stopping whenever something struck my fancy, and getting out, strolling about taking pictures. I got a couple of pictures of some Chincoteague ponies, which I hope will make good wallpapers for my computer back home. Well, by now it was time to eat some more vittles, so back we go to the home base. A light lunch was prepared by the chef: first, some creamy clam chowder, then a bed of limpy Romaine lettuce, smothered in Virgin olive oil, interspersed with diced hard-boiled eggs, next there was: Oysters Rockefellow on the half-shell (no less), followed by a large sauteed fillet of blackened catfish, and all of this gourmet gastronomical delight, eased into the gullet by several petite glasses of Dom Perion. NOT! GOTCHA! If you have been paying any attention whatsoever, by now the stark reality of my terrible eating habits would be perfectly clear. I am a terrible Balmer, Merlinder. I simply just don't like much seafood. Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE my steamed crabs and steamed shrimp, but I have rationalized that this is probably because what I really LOVE is the taste of the Old Bay Seasoning that they are both steamed in. An' that's the truth! I also like a really good crab-cake (like the ones from Koco's Pub, which is right around the corner from my home in Arcadia), with big lumps of back-fin meat, and NO shells - or G&M's in Lansdowne -YUM! So, what did I really have for lunch? A big bowl of Hyland's personal concoction: two diced hard-boiled eggs, one cut-up home-grown tomato, one small sliced onion, all almost floating in Lea & Perrins Worcestershire sauce! Yummy! Along with this delicacy, French rolls dripping with oleo, and slightly charred (note: it's easier to scrape off the charcoal if you don't butter the rolls first, like I did). The liquid "chaser" for this epicurean delight was twice-warmed and twice- cooled canned Schlitz "skunk" beer.
Remember before that I told you how important it was to keep the beer cooler COLD? Well, I forgot to get ice one day! By now it was late afternoon, and I decided to get an early start for my last night on the Island of Ponies. So, I packed up them thar things which weren't going to be needed, and stowed them in the car. Next, I did a peremptory walk-thru, making sure everything was "shipshape" inside, re- policed the exterior campsite, and then sat down and re-read the aforementioned Procedures for Closing List, which I had written.
Sure enough I "screwed-up" some of the order of things to be done, and not wishing to re-write the entire mess, I simply changed some numbers and drew arrows, and noted some minor changes. Come on now, this is NOT Rocket Science, doncha' know! After the ritual of the three "S's" again, I was all prettied up, smelling like a French Ho, and "hot to trot." Ole Honda and I "tooled" down the road with the sunroof wide open, the stereoblasting away Golden Oldies, and hoping we might "get lucky" tonight.
Well, let me tell you that's another long story! First stop (again) was Don's and Chattie's. Dead again, Bummer! Haven't these island folks ever heard about "Happy Hour?" Back home in Big B, some places start at four o'clock in the afternoon, and it was already five-thirty! No one was on the second floor (again), and as I was pulling around the corner of the building, I noticed that the only reason that there were lots of cars on the lot, was that there was some kind of meeting going on, on the first floor rear room. Perhaps it was an important community planning meeting, or a Tupperware Party, or even an AA meeting! Who knows? Who cares?"Three strikes and you're OUT!"
So, back to A.J.'s we went, Ole Honda and me, maybe we'll do a little more "caboose-watching!" Not meant to be! Instead of the pretty little "Sweet Thang" behind the bar, it was some old bald- headed guy . . . not my "cup of tea" if you get my drift. Look out Pony Pines! Here we come! Although it was about three hours earlier than my previous visits here, there was around a dozen patrons, but no Floyd and Pat, so I picked a stool at the left end of the bar, near the pool tables.The canned beers were still two dollars each (no Happy Hour here either), so I just perked up my ears and listened to a conversation going on, to my immediate right.
Some short guy about my age was talking to a younger guy, who just happened to say the wrong thing, "You don't want to shoot pool against me, because I'll kick your split-expletive!" To this the elder man promptly replied, "Don't tell me who not to play, I'll play anybody a friendly game." Well, they were the "magic" words! I immediately said, "Excuse me, I was just about to put my quarters in, and play with myself, you want to shoot?" Beings my quarters were in, I broke, but as usual, no luck! Nothing went down. Ron promptly ran about four balls, and I knew he was a "shooter." A couple of games and beers later, I had learned a bit about him. He was from Baltimore also, an area called Middle River, was sixty-four years old, had a sickly wife who didn't like the ocean environs, and he had a trailer at Tom's Cove which was for sale for $6,000.00. Well, he insisted that we take a ride up to see it, in case I would know someone who would be interested. So, we did! It was originally a Williams' Company Office trailer, that he gutted, and re-built the way he wanted it. It was: 8' wide by 40' long, with a separate master bedroom, a very large full bathroom, a living room, and a small eat- in kitchen. Ron said he had been coming down here now for fifty years, since he was fourteen. He had a small 16' Whaler parked outside, with a 175 Johnson on it, and said that it really moved! He was an avid fisherman, as well as a "skirt-chaser." So, after a quick tour and a cold "Bud", back we went to Pony Pines.
Before we could even order a beer, the young guy Brian, mentioned earlier pointed out two good-looking girls who were just leaving to go elsewhere for Karaoke. I looked at Ron, and said, "You're kidding me, they have Karaoke on this island?" I am a complete, unadulterated ham who LOVES to sing Karioke. So, Ron said, "follow me." After a wrong turn or two, we finally pulled into Captain Fish's parking lot, which was absolutely packed! By now it was around eight-thirty, and the place was jumping. Wall-to-wall people, mostly young, and many "good lookers." As we strolled into the large room with a large dance-floor, there on the left, sitting right up front, were the two ladies we had talked to on the lot at Pony Pines, Debbie and Susan. Debbie smiled, and indicated that she thought we were only kidding about seeing them there. Now, I ask you, would two old codgers with the minds of teenagers kid about a thing like that?
Anyway, Ron maneuvered his way to the back of the bar, and found us two stools and got us both a cold beer. Straight across from us, on the opposite side of the bar, was a blonde "Bombshell." She was absolutely gorgeous, well-proportioned, with straight long blonde hair that flowed to her waist, and a smile that just wouldn't quit! I looked at Ron and said, "I think I'm in love!"Ron just laughed and said, "Wait until she stands up!" Within minutes, there was Debbie, talking to this blonde beauty. Ron caught her attention and motioned for her to come over, and she did! Debbie was there in a flash, beaming also with a smile that wouldn't quit. Curly peppered blonde hair puffed about her head almost like an aura, flashing green-grey eyes sparkled of mischief, and after quick introductions, and a quick "peck" on the cheek, I knew she was of Irish descent also. "Buy me a beer?," she asked. Whereupon Ron did so. Debbie was a horse breeder, and shared with us some of the intricacies that were sometimes necessary to help the "stud- horse". This girl was by no means bashful or faint of heart. We found out that tonight was the finals of a Karaoke contest that had begun weeks before, and tonight the eight finalists were competing for the $1,000.00 Prize! Debbie's good friend, Laura, was in the running, and she was concerned that she had not yet arrived. We naturally promised to "root" for her, and Debbie went to find Susan, who was a photographer, flitting around snapping her little "snapper."It wasn't long before nature called, and I had to go find the "John." On the way back, I could not help but notice the blonde. She was standing in the middle of the dance-floor, surrounded by well-wishers who obviously knew her. My God! She must have been six-foot-two! More over Xena . . . there's a new Amazon in town! As I rejoined Ron at the bar, a young black fellow who had been previously eating, had now moved to my immediate right, and he had a "Tune Book!" I introduced myself and asked if I could look over his shoulder, as I definitely wanted to pick a tune to sing. No problemo! Within minutes, Ron left the bar and returned with another book, for me to use. Great! Well, as the contestants were announced, and each took his or her turn, I kept searching through the book. There has to be a "Golden Oldie" in here somewhere, that I know. I was specifically looking for "Blue Suede Shoes" by Elvis, but it wasn't in there. So, I went back, thumbed through, from A to Z, and then suddenly I realized that there was an addendum in the back, and my "tune" was there! I filled out a slip and took it up to the D.J. right away. By about ten-thirty or so, all of the contestants had performed, and the field had been narrowed down to three finalists, one of which was Debbie's friend, Laura. Well. as luck would have it, the D.J.'s took a break, while tallying the judge's scores, and for almost a half hour, the dance floor was jam-packed like sardines in a can. As I do love to dance, I politely asked Debbie, as we were now sitting with her group at their table, but alas, she turned me down. She needed a break from the young stud who had been hitting on her all night. Oops, here he comes! So she grabbed my hand quickly and said, "Let's have that dance." It was one of those fast, vibrant tunes where everyone stands in one spot, wiggles quite a lot, and rarely looks at their partner. But, it was fun ,I did break the ice, and she did have some very nice moves! After a quick "thank you" she was off again to talk to the Amazon, whose name was Dawn. One could not help but think about that old saying about rising in the morning, at the crack of dawn! Oh, My, Oh, My!
A while later, after another of several "pit stops" I realized that I hadn't seen Ron for quite some time, so I made a tour of the place, to look for him. Sure enough, there he was, way in the back, by the deck's edge, hitting on some sweet young thing! It was shortly after midnight now, and it had been a long, long day. So I moseyed on over, shook his hand, and said, "Well, pardner, like the boll weevil said to the farmer, ‘I wish you well', Im gonna call it a day!" Earlier, I had gotten his information, so people could contact him about the trailer sale, so maybe I'd give him a call back home sometime. We'll see.
After getting back and bedding Old Honda down, I "slinked" into bed, clothes and all, and pulled the blanket over my head. Tomorrow would be here sooner than you think! Lo and behold! I managed to sleep in a bit, and didn't awaken until half past seven! After having two cups of coffee and about half of a puzzle, I performed the morning ritual again, and then set about doing the chores of the Closing Procedures.
By nine-thirty, all the "hatches were battened down," my thermos was half-full of coffee, and it was time to "hit the trail." My steed and I waved a hearty adieu to the epitome of quietude, and headed towards the mainland to "fill ‘er up" at the Dixie gas pump. By ten in the morning we were off for our next adventure, the crossing of Delaware Bay via the Cape May-Lewes Ferry. Destination: Ocean View, New Jersey. Oh, we're not quite done with this vacation yarn, doncha' know? Big B won't see us until sometime Sunday. So, keep "tuned" to this station. More to follow . . . maybe even "Film at eleven!"
Well, the plan was simple, we were going up Route 13 to Route 113, over to Ocean City via Route 90, then up to Lewes, Delaware, board the Cape May-Lewes Ferry, then up Route 9 in New Jersey to Ocean View. I was going to spend the week-end with Jim's big sister Connie and her husband Richard. They had recently moved from Warren, Pennsylvania and I had not yet seen their new home. I left Virginia at ten a.m., arrived at the ferry at eleven-ten, and it departed at eleven-twenty. It was a beautiful day, a very pleasant crossing, and I took a few pictures of the scenery. The crossing takes about one hour and ten minutes, but shortens the driving route by about three hours. If you are ever in the area, I highly recommend this boat ride. Oh, Honda concurs!
The trip north on Route 9 was a pleasant one, which takes you through several little towns and townships. After Cape May, there's Wildwood, Avalon, and a few smaller towns. As soon as you enter the township of Dennis, there's a sign at a traffic light telling you to turn right to go to Sea Isle City. My turn however, was at the next blinking light, and to the left. After stopping at the local Post Office to get final directions to their home, I was delighted to know that I was less than a mile away. When we pulled into the driveway and parked we were impressed. The house is a long rancher, grey in color, with green shutters all around. I learned later that Rich had installed these. The windows are all "crank-type" thermo-panes, and the trim of the gutters and down-spouts are a matching grey. The house is nestled on a nice one acre, level wooded lot, and quite pleasing to the eye.
After getting out, ringing the doorbell, knocking on the door, hollering "Hello" through a window, and then walking around the entire house, I concluded that no one was home. Bummer! Beings nature was calling me again, in fact she was almost yelling, I left a quick note on the front door, put an empty soda can on the front stoop, jumped in my trusty steed, and "shot" over to Sea Island City. After ordering a cup of fresh coffee and a slice of "Za" at Angelo's, I was able to take care of my "business." Oh, what a relief it is!
The coffee was excellent, and so was the pizza, so I did a repeat performance of each. Then I strolled up to the promenade, watched the ocean and some of the bathing beauties, and took a few pictures. Well, this was the closest I had been to the Atlantic Ocean in several years. When I was younger I used to love the beach, and riding the waves, and the smell of the salt spray. Now, as an old "fart" I just enjoy the smelling part. The idea of salt and sand in my drawers no longer appeals to me. Nor does the ritual of getting baked in the sun like a red lobster, enduring the pain of sunburn, and then using a couple of pounds of Solarcaine to coat my body, just to have a golden tan like Adonis. Nah! I'll just be content now, watching the other fools, and staying a white "ghost."
I purposely waited until two-thirty, then "dropped my dime right into the slot" along with a quarter! Yikes! Thirty-five cents just to make a phone call, what is this world coming to? I got through to Connie, who said that she missed me by only ten minutes or so. "See you in a few" I said. Then I sashayed over to where ole Honda was grazing, saddled up, put the spurs to him, zipped over the bridge, copped a right and two lefts, and I was there in about six minutes. Not bad! Their house is certainly convenient to the ocean. A couple of hugs and kisses later, I was given the grand tour.
First, we did the interior: a nice entrance foyer and hallway (with closets), a big living room (with fireplace) on the left, a spacious dining room straight ahead (Connie has her office furniture and computer here temporarily), a hallway to the right takes you to a full-sized family bathroom, a very large master bedroom (with four big closets) and its own full bath, a full-size guest bedroom (my temporary quarters), and an adequate third bedroom, currently being used as a sitting/hobby room (Connie has an absolutely beautiful Doll-House that she took years to build, decorate, and furnish, as well as a collection of toy trucks). The large, eat-in kitchen (with center island housing a charcoal-filtered range-top grill) is nestled in the left rear, to the left of the dining room, and behind the living room. To the left of the kitchen is a spacious laundry/mud room with washer and dryer and utility tub. Here there is an entrance to the very large two-car garage which also houses several of Rich's very, very heavy metal-working machines, as well as his new "pride and joy" a beautiful turquoise Harley-Davidson! There is also a second entrance door to the living room. WOW! Is this house beautiful or what?
Many of the rooms have a nautical and/or seascape decor, and in the living room proudly stands a hand-carved six-foot-tall Sea Captain, white-bearded, with a bright yellow rain-slicker, holding a real oar. I LIKE this old guy! After grabbing a cold Molson Ice out of the fridge for me, we exited from the French doors of the kitchen, out onto the really spacious deck. It was grand also! I'd have to guess that it is about twelve foot deep by twenty or more feet wide, and holds a glass-top round table with umbrella and four matching chairs, along with about six or more chairs and small end tables, as well as a propane barbeque grill, and last but not least, a gift from one of their three sons. It is a big Mexican wood-burning fish! I guess it is hand-formed clay pottery, a mixture of gentle hues of blue-green, with white tracings of the scales and fins, that matches the patio furniture perfectly.The fish stands about five feet tall, with the gaping mouth at the bottom (for easily starting your little campfire) and the open tail points skyward, functioning as the flue. I LIKE this guy also!
The deck faces the rear of the wooded lot, is only about two steps down to the ground, and to the left of it, not far away from the third entrance to the garage stands a full-sized sink with counter- tops on both sides, that functions as a real wet bar and/or fish-cleaning station, with both hot and cold running water! Good idea! In the near future, one of Rich's "Honey-Do " jobs will be to add on an outside shower, for cleaning off one's residue from the beach. About twenty-five feet from the left rear corner of the garage sits a brand-spanking-new wooden shed. As the story goes, when it was delivered recently, the truck driver had a "hell-uv-a" time backing that sucker all the way around from the right side of the house, to its resting place. I understand that several trees had to be felled rather quickly, and Connie's Mom, my sister Rose, was playing Paul Bunyan that day! Well, she didn't really do a lot of chopping and sawing, but she worked her buns off dragging branches, and stacking firewood.
I estimate that the shed is about twelve by twenty feet and has a set of big double-doors with a ramp for easy storage of the lawn tractor. Rich already has pegboard installed across the entire length of the back wall, some tools hung, and several of his father's antique carpenter's tools on prominent display. Rich is a little shorter, but he's kind of a "John Wayne" type of guy, quiet but deep. I LIKE this guy too! Well, the tour was over, the second "brewski" went down pretty good, and now it was time to do what all good tourists do best . . . go shopping! So Connie and I jumped into her trusty steed, a classic-looking dark metallic green Buick with power "everything" and zipped up to the local Supermarket to get some groceries and other staples. Next, we swung by the local liquor store and got the really important stuff, a fresh case of Molson's Ice (note: Rich really likes this stuff, but personally I think it is akin to Mule "Pee", but after a half a dozen or so, who cares?). When we arrived back at the ranch, Rich had arrived from his long drive from Pennsylvania. His big green diesel-spewing Ford pick-up truck was in the driveway, loaded with another ‘project." The engine from his mother's old riding lawnmower is soon to be a "mulching machine."
After a hug and a handshake we both grabbed a fresh beer, and relaxed on the deck, chatting about manly things. Now it was time for the big question, which came from Rich, with a wide grin that you could drive a truck through ... "Did you see my new bike?" Did I? You bet, she's a beauty! About ten paces later, he was removing the cover, and explaining the finer points of both the Harley and what else he got in his deal. Out the big front door of the garage we went, and around to the right side of the house. There sat a trailer for the motorcycle, all aluminum, with a big rear door, almost like a trunk. You can drive the bike right in, close the door, and it is fully enclosed! That is nice! Well, not to be outdone by Rich, Connie pointed out her two new additions to the yard: a white metal heron strategically placed in a small flower bed, and a cute little birdhouse hanging from a wrought iron stake in the center of the back yard. Rich was pleased and complimented her accordingly. Next she said, "Did you notice the new addition to the shed?" Again Richard was pleased, there on the door-latch hung a bright red fishing buoy, with a whiterope on it. Now everything was nautical!
Dinner time, Morris! Oh, speaking of cats, they have an old one, speckled white, black, and grey, named "Pepper." Surprisingly, she was so friendly that besides coming over to be petted, she also actually got up on my lap and sat. Good cat! Back to dinner, Connie had prepared a delicious one: tender sauteed chicken breast that you easily cut with a fork, brussel sprouts, "Angel hair" pasta, and good old sliced "Jersey" tomatoes, along with fresh sliced Italian bread. Ummm, good! Naturally, there was fresh brewed coffee all around, and we chatted away, bringing each other up to date about our individual busy lives. After dinner and cleaning up the dishes we went out on the deck, and Rich made a fire in the fish. He uses those pre-packaged easy-start fire-log "thing-a-ma-bobs." They are perfect for this little fireplace, no mess, no fuss, and they burn for about three hours, without any "snap, crackle, or pops" spewing hot ashes onto your deck.
Connie joined us shortly, and the three of us "chilled" and gabbed away some more. I brought them up to date with the current adventures of my two children. Ann, who is now thirty, just bought a new Apple computer, as well as a Scanner and a Fax/Copier. As a Graphic Design specialist, she is still building her own business, doing free-lance work. Tom, who is now twenty-eight, just graduated from National Chiropractic College in Lombard, Illinois and is now a Doctor! He and his wife Laurie will be moving to Charlotte, North Carolina near the end of this month. Time marches on! Richard "hit the hay" around eleven, as he is an early riser, and Connie and I finally "gave up the ghost" around twelve-thirty. Saturday morning Rich left about five-thirty to take his bike for inspection. When I got up around seven-thirty there was fresh coffee in the thermos, and I did my morning ritual of: taking a gaggle of vitamin pills, doing crossword puzzles, and downing several cups of java . When Rich returned, he was pleased that the inspection went fine, and all of the guys were "ooh-ing and aw-ing" over his beautiful bike. Later, while Connie and I were trying to get her computer connected to the Internet, Rich started doing some of his "chores." By around noon, Connie and I took a ride to look at a piece of property.
We had to go over the bridge to Sea Isle City, then headed north on the island. When we finally found the Marina and parked, some old guy came running over, and before we could even get out to stretch our legs, informed us that it was "Private Property" and they were closed! Even though Connie was a licensed Real Estate Agent and the place was on the Multiple Listing, this guy didn't care, and was quite rude and adamant, so we left immediately. We weren't too impressed with what we saw, and thought that the $495,000.00 listed price was a bit steep. Our guess was that the owner was hoping to sell to a Developer, because of the acreage and waterfront amenities. Anyway, the question was moot, so we headed back to the mainland and home.
By now Rich had hung up three shop-lights in his shed, and while we chatted Connie prepared some lunch. B-L-T's were the order of the day, and they were delicious! Crisp bacon, crisp lettuce, sweet Jersey tomatoes, all piled high on fresh Italian bread – Umm! Good Eatin'! After lunch Connie and I returned to the computer and tried again to figure out what was wrong. She was previously on AOL, but since moving, her ISP had changed, and her new browser was Netscape Communicator. Also, additional software had been installed in order to allow her to network with the computer at the office. Since she had not yet set up her preferences, we had to go through everything, step by step. After a couple of hours of frustration, we finally gave up for the day. While Connie started dinner, Rich and I walked down the driveway to go "shopping." The neighbors next door have a small vegetable stand out front, so we only had to go about a hundred feet to purchase some corn-on-the-cob (a hybrid which they developed at their farm nearby) and a few other things. We returned to the deck and a couple more beers. Then another little ‘Honey-Do" job was requested by the little woman. Sure, no problem, we'll be happy to shuck the corn! By the time us old shuckers got that corn done (maybe twelve minutes tops) somehow our beverages had evaporated, so Rich got more!
Tonight's dinner was also a big hit: delicious tender steak, corn-on-the-cob which was as sweet as could be, and more Jersey tomatoes, Umm, good! Later, we all sat on the deck again, enjoyed a nice fire, and just talked and talked. After Rich went to bed, Connie and I discussed the pros and cons of her new business, and we finally turned in about one-thirty in the morning. Sunday morning after the "Three S" ritual, and a light breakfast, we worked on the computer again for a couple of hours, to no avail. By now, it was about noon, and I had to leave for home. While I packed my things into the car, Connie printed out a set of directions for me. So after some hugs, and thanks, and goodbyes, ole Honda and I hit the trail. After heading North and West a bit, I eventually reached Route 40 West, and was about an hour from The Delaware Memorial Bridge. The sunroof was wide open, the stereo was "cranked up" loud, and some really lively Spanish music was playing. I was listening to an all Spanish station, from out of Philly, and even the commercials and people calling in, were in Spanish. My two years of high school Spanish helped me to understand about every tenth word. Around two-thirty I took a quick "pit-stop" on Route 95 South, and by three-thirty I was pulling into my driveway. As I unlocked the door, I expected my dog Heather to get really excited and almost knock me down, trying to jump up and kiss me. Wrong! She was pleased, but quite reserved about it, a quick little kiss, and on her back she rolled, she wanted a "belly-rub!" Well, if that "don't beat all!" I worried all week about her missing me, but obviously Ann and her boyfriend, Chaplain had done a fine job of "dog-sitting."
My long-deserved and long-needed vacation was over, and tomorrow I would be back to work, but the old adage came to mind, "Be it ever so humble, there is no place like home!" Home Sweet Home! Oh, if you happened to get any enjoyment out of this lengthy piece, and are a real "glutton for punishment" look for my other article "Where In The World Is Giggle G.?" Thanks for reading me, and make it a point to "Have a GREAT Day!"
Stories Worth Wiping Your A** With
Whether you're making a deposit at the stank bank, dropping a return at the squat shop, or conducting a brown business meeting, these perfectly timed tales provide the literary fragrance your privacy deserves. F
