Things I would be doing this weekend if I didn’t have to go to Maine for family vacation:
– Dispatch Boston
– Messing with the summer RAs
– HOEDOWN THROWDOWN (read: jorts, obvi)
– Scalping Red Sox Tix.
But, no. Instead of smoking on the ledge of my dorm room window at three in the afternoon, while gazing outside at the most expensive and expansive front lawn I’ll ever have, I’ll be stuck in a cabin where the lights go out at 10 because that’s when they arbitrarily decide to turn off the generators.
Instead of beginning my weekend on Wednesday night and mistaking local firework shows for gunshots, I’ll have to wake up early tomorrow and drive my younger sister to school in the Sequoia.
Instead of dropping by the package store and briefly visiting with Mario, the most relaxed liquor proprietor this side of Mexico, I’ll be fighting off black flies.
I honestly don’t understand how the Maine chapters of the ‘Cac manage it. I wouldn’t be surprised to get there this weekend and see snow. Down in the (comparatively) tropical climate of central Connecticut, I’m always impressed with the fortitude and strength needed to live in Maine. Between the bugs, the snow, the pine needles, and the general lack of cell service anywhere that isn’t the coast, Maine is rough and I tip my hat to our northern members.
That said, I feel like I’m selling Maine a bit short. It is really wonderful in many regards—Otto’s, Freeport, Chewonki, and general access to nature just to name a few. I have to admit, it will be a nice change of pace from the residual Puerto Rican Pride Day Parade celebrations that have been going on for the past two weeks in Hartford.
I guess if nothing else, at least it’s a chance to break in my Bean Boots and an excuse to celebrate once I get back to my corner of the ‘Cac.