The Maine Diaries

It’s 8:19 a.m. on Sunday, June 15, 2008. I have officially been on vacation for a day and a half and am only just now starting to come out of the blurr from the last two weeks. We are in Boston now, specifically in the North End in a beautiful bed and breakfast. My view is of roof tops and old architecture. It’s beautiful. The day is rainy and cool in the upper 50’s. Paul and the girls sleep while I sip coffee and type at the writing desk.

Our efforts to leave town on Friday were almost comical. Paul and the girls took my instructions about purchasing fruit for us to snack on to heart and I came home to what looked like ten plastic containers of melon. Two huge coolers were sitting on the floor awaiting their bounty and there still wasn’t enough room. After loading and reloading the coolers and all of the luggage we realized we had to downsize a cooler and Kenzie ended up dumping most of the fruit. Paul’s brother Chad is watching the house and dogs for us and would sooner stab himself in the eye with a pencil than to pass a piece of fruit between his lips.

I did not help matters at all as it seems my brain completely discontinued functioning at approximately 1:30 p.m. What is possibly the best group of Air Force people I have ever had the pleasure of working with was safely departed and I was standing in my kitchen trying to trouble shoot the logistics of the quantity of stuff we had decided we just HAD bring along and the constraints of a mini van and the bodies trying to squeeze into it when I realized the unnerving sound I was hearing was the gears of my mind grinding and slamming like an engine too long driven hard and fast without an oil change. God knows what we really have packed in the depths of that van.

We arrived in Harrisburg Pennsylvania after 1:00 in the morning and paid $254 for a six hour sleep and a shower. Hannah’s one request for this whole trip was to go to Hershey and drive down the streets so she could see the street lamps with Kisses on top and go to Chocolate World to see how the chocolate was made. We got ourselves turned around in Hershey, the Garmin GPS it seems occasionally has mind of her own – we’ve named her Velma and the van the Mystery Machine. We all know that Ray is Scooby but unfortunately we had to leave him behind. Anyway, we finally arrived at Hershey Park, were lined up and trammed like cattle, paid an absolutely UNGODLY amount of money to wander around the park. Paul and Kenzie hit the roller coasters but Hannah wanted the museum and Chocolate World so she and I played a carnival game called wack-a-mole where she won a little stuffed monkey whose hands Velcro together. She’s been wearing it around her neck ever since. His name is, of course, George. She and I hit the museum, which was pretty interesting actually and then met up with Kenzie and Paul to tour Chocolate World. It’s a riding tour and they make it a lot of fun. The expression on Hannah’s face was worth everything. She was so excited and so animated. I would give anything in a heartbeat for her to always look like that.

The drive to Boston…..what the Fuck???! The Garmin must have decided to take us the shortest route, but not necessarily the fastest route. Fucking Velma took us through downtown Jersey and downtown New York. “Paul, looking over your shoulder is a sign of weakness! Don’t put on your signal until you are already half way into the lane – Jesus man, this is no place for manners, practice your “Up Yours Buddy” voice and drive man drive!!” The man was a wreck by the time we got through the city. Oh, and I forgot to mention the freakin’ tsunami that blew in while we navigating our way across the Manhattan Bridge. Oh wait and I also forgot the slight detour when we tried to pull off and get gas at the Jersey service area. Oh man!! We waited in line to get gas only to discover that their credit card machines were down and it was cash only. I had taken the girls inside to go to the bathroom and they got a quick education. We had two people trying to sell us tickets to some show some where; one woman who just wanted to know if we spoke English and she would just give them to us if we wanted them. Another woman was selling, but she wasn’t selling tickets exactly.

Anyway we got the hell out and strapped on the pontoon feature of the Mystery Van and navigated our way towards Boston. The storm was so bad we drove most of it somewhere between 35 and 45 miles an hour. We hit Boston at around 11:00 p.m. We learned two very important things about the Garmin GPS. One, she can’t read the satellite signals underground and when you finally emerged, she’s going to give you the wrong directions or tell you to turn right NOW, NOW, NOW as you sail past it. Two, it is very very very important that you spell out the entire street name. For example; 290 N. St. Boston is NOT going to get you to 290 North Street, Boston. Those would be two entirely different, yet viable Boston locations.

La Capella is the bed and breakfast and it is just lovely. We are on the fifth floor – no elevator. It is not a large room but it is nicely done and cozy. There is a large common kitchen area with a small patio over looking the roof tops. The rain has followed us and our high today is supposed to be in the low 60’s. Kenzie is going to freeze her butt off. She did not heed my advice to bring long sleeves. I’m in a bind for activities for us because everything I have planned involves walking around the city.

Hannah is up and hungry and journal time has expired. I am off to forage for food and figure out what the hell to do with everyone on a rainy Boston day.