Reporting from Maine here, the weather is sunny with a slight overcast. Do I sound like a reporter yet? I’ve been seeing some old friends (not old in age of course) and making some new. However, I know that there are some friends that I won’t get a chance to see because after I got to my girlfriend’s (her leading me the last half hour), I decided that I was not getting into that car again until it was time to go home. My little dog, Sam, is also a neurotic mess but he loves my girlfriend and has turned traitor and follows her around instead of me.
I have no schedule, can’t find anything and just can’t seem to relax as much as I like but this isn’t so much a vacation as a trip to be with someone who has had some pretty bad luck for the past month. However, it makes me happy to see how many friends that she does have and all the support that is around here for her. I think it’s the difference between Maine and New York. Even living next door to family I doubt that I would have half the support.
As for my trip from Wolcott to Brunswick – it was pretty normal for ME. It started with leaving at about 9 am in a bit of snow which I was out of by the time I reached the throughway. Sam, my puppy, was excellent and curled down in the passenger seat. We stopped at the first rest stop to do some business then hopped back into the car and headed east. We stopped at the next rest stop because I had too much coffee and then I realized that I had forgotten my cell phone. Oh the sinking feeling that you have several hundred miles to go with no phone in case of an emergency! It took me until the next rest stop to realize that I could buy a new, cheap one with minutes just to carry for the trip and let my husband know that we were doing all right. We were lucky and they had cell phones! I got it working but then it died because it needed to be charged. At the next rest stop I purchased a package of seven sizes to make sure at least one fit. However, when I opened the package none of them fit the hole into the phone or the connection to that thing you put into the lighter. I realized that the connection into the lighter was defective in the connecting part also. However, the NY rest stop store that sold it wouldn’t exchange it or give me my cash back because I had opened the box. There was no manager available of course and I grabbed a comment card, told them what I thought and went back to the car. At the next rest stop they didn’t even sell phones. I stopped at every rest stop to find a charger to fit from there to Massachusetts 495. By then I had accrued a purse full of wires and connectors and things to plug into the lighter.
I’m not crazy about 495 but I will do anything not to drive in Boston. Every driver in Boston thinks that he/she is the only person on the road and if you are a wuss like me you sort of stay in one place while cars whiz in front of you and beside you. 495 was good sailing until about half way to 95 it stopped. I did not go over 10 miles per hour until 95 and this was at 3 pm on a weekday. Of course, there were drivers that kept insisting on changing lanes because they thought that the other lanes were faster and there were drivers zipping by on the shoulders. The only fun part of all that was when we passed those people that had changed lanes :o)
By the time Sam and I reached Maine it was dark (and of course we had to stop and attend to some business in New Hampshire – another rest stop!) My girlfriend had told me to call her when I reached New Brunswick but I couldn’t find New Brunswick and stopped in Portland to call her. She didn’t answer. (this was because I was supposed to call her home phone instead of her call phone that I was calling). Then I realized that I was on 95 and should have been on 295 but there was a very nice man at the gas station who told me how to get to 295. By then I was exhausted and since my girlfriend wasn’t answering, I decided to spend the night at a hotel. I thought I could find her house but I was just plain too tired and needed Ma Bell to call my husband to tell him that I hadn’t yet driven into the ocean. Of course, there were no dogs allowed in any of the hotels that I stopped at. One of the Managers finally told me of one in New Brunswick. I go there on the verge of tears and was able to check in. What a relief!
I wanted to bring all my luggage to my room so that I could look for my cell because all my numbers were in it, including my husband’s office telephone. No bellhop but the Manager pointed to a luggage carrier. So holding Sam in one hand and four very heavy bags in the other I finally made it through the door. They had put me on the 3rd floor of course (but at least they took dogs so you can’t complain) which meant maneuvering a huge luggage carrier through teeny tiny doors and making sure that Sam (who had never encountered an elevator, got on before the doors closed.
The luggage carrier had a stuck wheel so I cursed and complained down three halls while hitting the walls with the carrier about every 10 feet or so. Finally got the door open to the room with that silly card, pushed everything in and just stood there thinking about bedbugs. So, Sam and I dismantled the beds but didn’t find any. Luckily it was very warm in the room because I didn’t use any covers. I called my husband, said goodnight, walked Sam and slept. My husband said that my girlfriend had called three times and had given him her house number and asked why I didn’t call. I called my girlfriend and she said that I was about 8 miles from her. I said I didn’t care so she said she would meet me at the hotel the next morning.
The next morning she helped me with the bags (funny that she could get the carrier to go straight!), I followed her home and here I am. My husband called and told me that the state police had called him (he about had a heart attack) and told him that they had his cell phone and that it was all pink and sparkly. He said that they seemed relieved when he explained that it was his wifes. Unfortunately, they had to send it to Albany who would send it home. Fine. I was here and I haven’t gotten into the car since. And besides, my girlfriend explained to me that the reason that the charger(s) didn’t fit was because I was putting it into the wrong hole. I haven’t told my husband that yet because I know he will call me Lucy Ricardo again.
Later I’ll tell you about my antique searches and how they went. Noodles!