It turns out that if you wait too long for something, it
might just be gone by the time you get there. We’ve been experiencing that
lesson a few times over now that the short summer season of the north is over
and September has arrived. With our calendars cleared of our usual school and
orchestra commitments, we were looking forward to enjoying a few leisurely
weeks along the northern coastline with cooler weather and the absence of
tourists. We definitely got that cooler weather (see previous blog post here),
and also a more thorough understanding of why the tourists have all gone home –
it’s f***ing COLD up here!
We’ve made seeing family and friends a priority, but it’s
rather embarrassing to admit that our close-second priority has been to visit
all of our favorite eating spots. We had yet, for instance, to indulge our craving
for fried clams and steamed lobsters at Holbrooks before leaving Maine. We’ve
been salivating over the memory of our last visit, now fully three years ago. We
made a plan to meet up with Barb and Jeff at the seaside restaurant, the
perfect way to kill two birds with one stone.
After an extremely rough passage from Boothbay to Harpswell that
left me sick as a dog and clutching a bucket for hours, we pull in to Holbrooks,
only to discover that they are closed. CLOSED! For the SEASON! Not that my
stomach would have welcomed fried clams right then, but hey, it’s the principle
of the thing!
Rick quickly made friends with the
guys on the lobster boat that pulled in nearby, and bought bugs for us to cook
in our galley. Rick tends to get back a little of his Maine drawl when he’s up
here, particularly after conversing with the locals for any length of time, and
his accent was strongly in force that night (can you say “lobstah and cawn”?).
Barb and Jeff stopped at a grocery on their way to join us, and we ended up
having a fine meal anyway; they even brought steamers (clams). They are family
of course, but they are also great friends, and it’s tough to leave Maine
knowing that we probably won’t see them for an entire year.
Hoping to get south as quickly as
we can, we leave the next morning for Onset Bay in Massachusetts. If we do an
overnight passage off shore we can cover one-hundred-and-forty miles in just
over one day, and bypass Portland, Provincetown and Plymouth. It’s a cold,
bumpy passage, and even though I don’t need the bucket this time, I’m still not
up to helping out with the sailing duties. Rick is on station for the entire
bone-chilling trip.
Much as I’m looking forward to
getting down to more temperate climes, I’m sorry to be missing Provincetown. Maybe we could have gotten fried clams. But at least we had a few days of fun there on our
way up in early August.
During that visit I insisted on taking in a matinee movie at
the little theater in town, always a great excuse to feed my popcorn habit (You
know that scene in The Wizard of Oz where the Wicked Witch is casting an
irresistible spell over Dorothy and her compadres, saying, “Poppies,
Paaaahpeees”? In my world she’s saying, “Popcorn, Paaaahpcooorn.”). The film we
chose to see was The Big Sick, a true story about the relationship between a
Pakistani-born comedian with a traditional family, and a Caucasian woman he
falls in love with and can’t quite bring home to meet the family. No spoilers
for those who haven’t seen it yet, it is definitely a comedy, but there were
parts of it that brought me to tears. Maybe it was a result of video
deprivation from more than a month on the boat, but I found myself weeping onto
Rick’s shoulder.
After the movie, we stumble out onto the street. Blinking
from the sudden sunlight (and some leftover tears), we are unprepared for the
crowds of people milling around the main drag. Out of the blue, I see Scarbie,
the local drag queen who rides around town on her pink bicycle, selling tickets
to her show “Lipschtick”. We’ve never seen her show, but she is a regular
feature in Provincetown, a real local celebrity, with her signature tall hats
and heels. She happens to be right in front of us, posing for pictures with
some fans. I get the bright idea to get my
picture taken with her too.
I waltz right up to her, but the minute I try to open my
mouth to say something witty, I’m suddenly aware that I’m wearing grubby foul
weather clothes (it had threatened rain earlier), no make-up, I have wicked hat
hair, and I can’t remember if I put deodorant on. Here I am approaching this
totally made-up diva in flamboyant colors, probably wearing perfume, and much
more feminine than me. I’m completely tongue-tied. I’m sure I’m coming off as a
blubbering idiot.
Scarbie is completely unfazed by my plain-janeness, and even
graciously whispers instructions for picture posing (“Hand on your hip, put out
your leg and point your toe, etc…”). Jeez, putting on a femme persona turns out
to be a lot of work, which is probably why I don’t do it very often, or even
very well. I thank her profusely, laughing nervously and becoming ever more
embarrassed by my self-consciousness. Rick tells me right afterwards that I had popcorn
in my teeth (Paaaahpcooorn).
We bought tickets for the next evening’s performance of
“Lipschtick”, and laughed our heads off at Scarbie’s gender bending humor. She
loves to poke fun at LGBT stereotypes, and the best parts of the show were the
audience participation jokes and the ad libbing that ensued. I made sure to wear something at least a little less boaty/sporty but I don't think I made any better of an impression. I'm pretty sure my teeth were clean though.
We fully intended to revisit P-town on our way back south,
but I wonder how many of our favorite places would have gone the way of
Holbrooks and closed up after Labor Day. As it turns out, even Onset has gone
quiet with abandoned beaches and empty parking lots. Rick took a brief nap
after anchoring (he’d been up for twenty-six hours), and then we dinghied in
for the ritual pizza and clams at Marc Anthony’s. Alas however, we are again too late; clam season is over. We had to content ourselves with just the pizza.
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| You can't see it, but one hand is on my hip and my toe is pointed.. |
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