Where's Waldo?
Hello World,
Where was I? Of course, it is a well-known fact, or should be by now, that if July 4th has come and gone, then my vacation cannot be far behind, and this year was no exception. But rather than dropping everything flat and skulking off in the dark of night without a word of warning, I really should have remembered to announce my intentions to all and sundry, so people didn't wonder what the heck happened to me last week, when no one in the whole wide world of world wide wholeness heard a peep out of me, and I don't doubt, some people just as glad of it. (And don't think that I don't know who you are!) But here I am back at my post, returned from Vacation-Land safe and sound, all in one piece and none the worse for wear. Not to mention, none the worse for where.
This year, my adventures in Vacation-Land started early, as I took off from work on Thursday and Friday after July 4th, so I had two extra days to get ready. Obviously, this didn't work, owing to a curious principle of physics that work expands to fill whatever time is allotted to it, and I found myself running around on Saturday, just the same as if I hadn't taken any extra days off to start with. But it was a beautiful day, and we managed to cram everything into both cars that needed to go, and set off in high spirits. This was already a big improvement over last year, when we had only one car that could go on vacation, or even the year before, when we had to stop and fix the tail light before we could even get out of town. Although it would be nice to leave really early and miss all the usual Saturday traffic around here, it does no good to get to the park too early, because they don't let you check in anyway. But we found the traffic was not so bad in any case, and even that mainstay of my vacation travels, road construction on the highways, was notable by its absence. In fact, we made very good time right until we got all the way to Wading River, where the weekend traffic backs up all the way to the next town over, and although we might have wished that we had taken a different route at that point, we would have missed the man dressed up in a Subway sandwich costume along the way, and don't think that I don't have the pictures to prove it.
Either no one had been on our campsites, or they had already left, because we were able to check in when we arrived with no trouble. We set up the tent and also the tiny spare tent on the other site, plus the clothesline, and pretty soon we were all ship-shape and ready to hit the beach. Something about Bill always seems to bring out the best of Wildwood beach, so it was a lovely balmy day out on the sand, and the water was cool and clear. Unlike other years, when a first touch of the frigid waters is enough to make lesser people just drop dead in their tracks, this time did not seem quite so bad, and was more refreshing than life-threatening. Later, we availed ourselves of the concession stand's tasty cheese fries, which were as good as we remembered them, and just as welcome. After a nice relaxing day at the beach, we headed back up that long hill to the campsite (and I defy anyone to prove to me that it doesn't get longer and steeper every year) and changed out of our wet swimsuits for the next leg of our journey.
Ever since I came up with this cockamamie scheme where Bill comes with me on Saturday to set up the campsite and stay overnight at a hotel nearby, we've tried a variety of places in the area, and it's been a real hit-or-miss proposition with this from the very beginning. The first place we stayed was right on the very doorstep of the park, but outrageously expensive. The next place was cheaper, but certainly adequate, and we liked it enough to go back the year after. Unfortunately, that was the year the local blues festival coincided with my vacation, and we couldn't blast our way through it to get to our hotel, so the following year, we picked a different hotel out of self-protection. That hotel wasn't quite so outrageously expensive as the first place, but it was still over-priced for the accommodations. So this year, we decided to try our luck with a local Holiday Inn Express, handily located nowhere near the blues festival, just in case. We had a quick shower and then headed off to the Rocky Point Diner, which is a perennial favorite of ours and worth the trip. By the time we returned to the hotel, the motor speedway next door was in full swing, full throttle and full volume, with a boisterous PA system that could be heard for blocks in any direction. In despair, we resigned ourselves to a long and noisy night of it, but were surprised to find the hotel room blissfully quiet in spite of the tumultuous neighbors. In the morning, they provided a complimentary breakfast featuring their famous cinnamon buns, and I can recommend them highly. Although I found our room spacious and comfortable, with plenty of amenities (we even used the Internet connection with Bill's laptop) it occurred to me later that there's a reason that they call it a Holiday Inn Express. When I went to take pictures, I was surprised to discover, or rather, NOT discover a swimming pool, fitness center, Jacuzzi, sauna, lobby, game room, landscape elements, restaurant, banquet rooms, patio, playing fields, gift shop, or any of the vast assortment of cozy nooks, charming alcoves and decorative seating areas so beloved by interior designers that are scattered about every other hotel these days. I think that's what makes this an "Express" rather than the usual Holiday Inn, and since we were staying only briefly, we never missed what was missing.
We checked out in the morning and headed back to the beach for another day of fun in the sun, and once again, Wildwood beach did not disappoint. We had cheese fries again, and those also did not disappoint. In fact, the only disappointment was when Bill finally had to pack up and leave, so he could hold down the fort at home while I was cavorting in the woods. Although the park was packed solid when we arrived on Saturday, by Sunday it had emptied out quite a lot, and I was able to get a shower without standing on a long line, and it was even quiet enough to get to sleep, mostly thanks to the patrol cars driving around and telling people to pipe down. In fact, it was so quiet, it was quickly turning into a year with no intrigue, and I can't remember the last time that happened on my vacation. I had already established in my mind who the spies were this time around, and they were handily located right next to my spare campsite, where I could keep my eye on things, but then we came back up from the beach on Sunday and they had packed up and stolen away in broad daylight. Then there was another seemingly abandoned campsite across from the old Roundy, with a small pathetic dome tent that was slowly collapsing, which you would think would be impossible for a dome tent, but the family returned during the week and soon set the campsite to rights. After that, there was nothing of interest to be seen anywhere, so either the covert operatives have gotten more, well, covert, or the whole bottom has dropped out of the spy business altogether.
The rest of my vacation was blissfully uneventful, and I even had company, and by that I mean, of the human variety and not a bunch of marauding furry woodland creatures trying to take advantage of my hospitality, although there was that also. I managed to find a souvenir that was decorative as well as practical, and you know I always say you can tell when you have a good vacation when you spend absolutely all of the money that you brought with you. There was a little rain on Wednesday night, but I did go swimming every day and have a campfire every night, so I consider it a successful vacation as far as weather, and whoever had snatched and tied up Comrade Mischka for the week, you can let him go now, and many thanks. The park patrol, who seemed so diligent on Sunday, appeared to lose interest as the week wore on, and we were awakened by the sounds of a raucous "domestic disturbance" in the middle of the night on Thursday, and the drunken carousing of rowdy hooligans in the pre-dawn hours of Saturday morning. That doesn't usually happen, and I was grateful that my ear plugs blocked out most of it. And I may as well say right now that I frankly prefer the spies, who at least have the advantage of being quiet.
I was up early on Saturday anyway, packing things up and cramming stuff back into the car, and I was glad to see Bill when he arrived to pitch in and lend a hand. We checked out with time to spare, which was a good thing, because by Saturday, every campsite was filled, and we were glad to get out while the getting was good. We ignored those harbingers of doom, where one little thing after another goes wrong, and instead of racing home and pulling the covers over our heads, we went back to the beach for a last day of sand and surf. Here's where a bunch of those harbingers all piled up at once, culminating in a most unwelcome fashion, when the health department showed up at the concession stand the same time we did, and impounded their deep fryer, ostensibly so they could not continue to kill people with their cheese fries. We settled for some warm pizza instead, but it was just not the same thing, and a rather dispiriting end to our adventures in Vacation-Land. Personally, I thought that health inspector looked suspiciously like Comrade Mischka, but I'm sure I must have been mistaken, nyet?
We returned home without incident, and Bill had done a masterful job holding down the fort, as he always does, while the cats greeted my return with their usual range of emotions from boredom to outright terror. In the week since, I have gotten as far as getting semi-unpacked, and the camping supplies have gotten in the general vicinity of the shelves in the garage where they belong. The dirty laundry has been sorted into piles, which may not make it any cleaner, but at least it's neater if nothing else. Since I've been home, all heck has broken loose in a wide array of diverse ways, and at this rate, I expect it will take until July 2008 for me to completely get my camping supplies and laundry under control. In fact, going back to work after 10 days makes me want to give up on the idea of vacations entirely, and just leave the field wide open for Comrade Mischka and the spies to do their worst. That would certainly usher in boom times for travel insurance, so you might want to get in on the ground floor of that, but remember if you want cheese fries, you should probably bring along your own deep fryer, just in case.
Where was I? Of course, it is a well-known fact, or should be by now, that if July 4th has come and gone, then my vacation cannot be far behind, and this year was no exception. But rather than dropping everything flat and skulking off in the dark of night without a word of warning, I really should have remembered to announce my intentions to all and sundry, so people didn't wonder what the heck happened to me last week, when no one in the whole wide world of world wide wholeness heard a peep out of me, and I don't doubt, some people just as glad of it. (And don't think that I don't know who you are!) But here I am back at my post, returned from Vacation-Land safe and sound, all in one piece and none the worse for wear. Not to mention, none the worse for where.
This year, my adventures in Vacation-Land started early, as I took off from work on Thursday and Friday after July 4th, so I had two extra days to get ready. Obviously, this didn't work, owing to a curious principle of physics that work expands to fill whatever time is allotted to it, and I found myself running around on Saturday, just the same as if I hadn't taken any extra days off to start with. But it was a beautiful day, and we managed to cram everything into both cars that needed to go, and set off in high spirits. This was already a big improvement over last year, when we had only one car that could go on vacation, or even the year before, when we had to stop and fix the tail light before we could even get out of town. Although it would be nice to leave really early and miss all the usual Saturday traffic around here, it does no good to get to the park too early, because they don't let you check in anyway. But we found the traffic was not so bad in any case, and even that mainstay of my vacation travels, road construction on the highways, was notable by its absence. In fact, we made very good time right until we got all the way to Wading River, where the weekend traffic backs up all the way to the next town over, and although we might have wished that we had taken a different route at that point, we would have missed the man dressed up in a Subway sandwich costume along the way, and don't think that I don't have the pictures to prove it.
Either no one had been on our campsites, or they had already left, because we were able to check in when we arrived with no trouble. We set up the tent and also the tiny spare tent on the other site, plus the clothesline, and pretty soon we were all ship-shape and ready to hit the beach. Something about Bill always seems to bring out the best of Wildwood beach, so it was a lovely balmy day out on the sand, and the water was cool and clear. Unlike other years, when a first touch of the frigid waters is enough to make lesser people just drop dead in their tracks, this time did not seem quite so bad, and was more refreshing than life-threatening. Later, we availed ourselves of the concession stand's tasty cheese fries, which were as good as we remembered them, and just as welcome. After a nice relaxing day at the beach, we headed back up that long hill to the campsite (and I defy anyone to prove to me that it doesn't get longer and steeper every year) and changed out of our wet swimsuits for the next leg of our journey.
Ever since I came up with this cockamamie scheme where Bill comes with me on Saturday to set up the campsite and stay overnight at a hotel nearby, we've tried a variety of places in the area, and it's been a real hit-or-miss proposition with this from the very beginning. The first place we stayed was right on the very doorstep of the park, but outrageously expensive. The next place was cheaper, but certainly adequate, and we liked it enough to go back the year after. Unfortunately, that was the year the local blues festival coincided with my vacation, and we couldn't blast our way through it to get to our hotel, so the following year, we picked a different hotel out of self-protection. That hotel wasn't quite so outrageously expensive as the first place, but it was still over-priced for the accommodations. So this year, we decided to try our luck with a local Holiday Inn Express, handily located nowhere near the blues festival, just in case. We had a quick shower and then headed off to the Rocky Point Diner, which is a perennial favorite of ours and worth the trip. By the time we returned to the hotel, the motor speedway next door was in full swing, full throttle and full volume, with a boisterous PA system that could be heard for blocks in any direction. In despair, we resigned ourselves to a long and noisy night of it, but were surprised to find the hotel room blissfully quiet in spite of the tumultuous neighbors. In the morning, they provided a complimentary breakfast featuring their famous cinnamon buns, and I can recommend them highly. Although I found our room spacious and comfortable, with plenty of amenities (we even used the Internet connection with Bill's laptop) it occurred to me later that there's a reason that they call it a Holiday Inn Express. When I went to take pictures, I was surprised to discover, or rather, NOT discover a swimming pool, fitness center, Jacuzzi, sauna, lobby, game room, landscape elements, restaurant, banquet rooms, patio, playing fields, gift shop, or any of the vast assortment of cozy nooks, charming alcoves and decorative seating areas so beloved by interior designers that are scattered about every other hotel these days. I think that's what makes this an "Express" rather than the usual Holiday Inn, and since we were staying only briefly, we never missed what was missing.
We checked out in the morning and headed back to the beach for another day of fun in the sun, and once again, Wildwood beach did not disappoint. We had cheese fries again, and those also did not disappoint. In fact, the only disappointment was when Bill finally had to pack up and leave, so he could hold down the fort at home while I was cavorting in the woods. Although the park was packed solid when we arrived on Saturday, by Sunday it had emptied out quite a lot, and I was able to get a shower without standing on a long line, and it was even quiet enough to get to sleep, mostly thanks to the patrol cars driving around and telling people to pipe down. In fact, it was so quiet, it was quickly turning into a year with no intrigue, and I can't remember the last time that happened on my vacation. I had already established in my mind who the spies were this time around, and they were handily located right next to my spare campsite, where I could keep my eye on things, but then we came back up from the beach on Sunday and they had packed up and stolen away in broad daylight. Then there was another seemingly abandoned campsite across from the old Roundy, with a small pathetic dome tent that was slowly collapsing, which you would think would be impossible for a dome tent, but the family returned during the week and soon set the campsite to rights. After that, there was nothing of interest to be seen anywhere, so either the covert operatives have gotten more, well, covert, or the whole bottom has dropped out of the spy business altogether.
The rest of my vacation was blissfully uneventful, and I even had company, and by that I mean, of the human variety and not a bunch of marauding furry woodland creatures trying to take advantage of my hospitality, although there was that also. I managed to find a souvenir that was decorative as well as practical, and you know I always say you can tell when you have a good vacation when you spend absolutely all of the money that you brought with you. There was a little rain on Wednesday night, but I did go swimming every day and have a campfire every night, so I consider it a successful vacation as far as weather, and whoever had snatched and tied up Comrade Mischka for the week, you can let him go now, and many thanks. The park patrol, who seemed so diligent on Sunday, appeared to lose interest as the week wore on, and we were awakened by the sounds of a raucous "domestic disturbance" in the middle of the night on Thursday, and the drunken carousing of rowdy hooligans in the pre-dawn hours of Saturday morning. That doesn't usually happen, and I was grateful that my ear plugs blocked out most of it. And I may as well say right now that I frankly prefer the spies, who at least have the advantage of being quiet.
I was up early on Saturday anyway, packing things up and cramming stuff back into the car, and I was glad to see Bill when he arrived to pitch in and lend a hand. We checked out with time to spare, which was a good thing, because by Saturday, every campsite was filled, and we were glad to get out while the getting was good. We ignored those harbingers of doom, where one little thing after another goes wrong, and instead of racing home and pulling the covers over our heads, we went back to the beach for a last day of sand and surf. Here's where a bunch of those harbingers all piled up at once, culminating in a most unwelcome fashion, when the health department showed up at the concession stand the same time we did, and impounded their deep fryer, ostensibly so they could not continue to kill people with their cheese fries. We settled for some warm pizza instead, but it was just not the same thing, and a rather dispiriting end to our adventures in Vacation-Land. Personally, I thought that health inspector looked suspiciously like Comrade Mischka, but I'm sure I must have been mistaken, nyet?
We returned home without incident, and Bill had done a masterful job holding down the fort, as he always does, while the cats greeted my return with their usual range of emotions from boredom to outright terror. In the week since, I have gotten as far as getting semi-unpacked, and the camping supplies have gotten in the general vicinity of the shelves in the garage where they belong. The dirty laundry has been sorted into piles, which may not make it any cleaner, but at least it's neater if nothing else. Since I've been home, all heck has broken loose in a wide array of diverse ways, and at this rate, I expect it will take until July 2008 for me to completely get my camping supplies and laundry under control. In fact, going back to work after 10 days makes me want to give up on the idea of vacations entirely, and just leave the field wide open for Comrade Mischka and the spies to do their worst. That would certainly usher in boom times for travel insurance, so you might want to get in on the ground floor of that, but remember if you want cheese fries, you should probably bring along your own deep fryer, just in case.
posted by El Tango Fandango @ 8:14 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home