There's just no good way to get to Maine.
You could walk, but that would be labor intensive, would take too long, and you run the risk of dying along the way. You could fly, but then you run the risk of flight delays and lost baggage. Besides, you couldn't take all the stuff necessary for a month of fun. The best way to go to Maine is the way we used to do it when we were younger and less obsessed with the safety of our children. We would take the middle seats out of our minivan, throw the kids on the floorboard in sleeping bags, tethered to nothing, and depart beautiful downtown Short Pump at 7:30 PM. By the time we made it to D.C. Both of them were fast asleep. Our first stop was after midnight somewhere on the New Jersey Turnpike for gas and a bathroom break...which the kids slept through. The worst part would always be in Massachusetts at 4:00 in the morning when I could only stay awake if Pam fed me grapes and squirt cheese on Chicken-in-a-Biscuit crackers. When the sun finally came up around 6:00, I would get my second wind. We would make our second stop at the first rest area after crossing the green bridge into Maine. We would wake up the kids and have breakfast, secure in the knowledge that the worst part was over and now we were only two freaking hours away!! Once we pulled into Dummers around 10:00 AM, i would sleepwalk through getting unpacked and settled in, then collapse in a beach chair and sleep the rest of the day.
...and ladies and gentlemen, this was the best way to get to Maine.
Somewhere along the line, our all-nighters came to an end. The kids got too big and wouldn't sleep the whole way, and I got to where I couldn't stay awake no matter what disgusting snacks Pam fed me. It was then that we discovered that making the drive up 95 north in the daylight was something on the order of Dante's seventh circle of hell. I felt like Mad Max trying to survive a dystopian nightmare. I would imagine all of the horrible things that would befall me if I broke down on the Garden State Parkway, the grisly end I would endure if somehow I couldn't scrape up enough money for the Tappan Zee Bridge toll. And the traffic...the traffic through the trifecta of misery which is New Jersey, New York and Connecticut during the day is immeasurably worse than it is in the middle of the night. It's sort of like how tofu is immeasurably worse than steak, or how having a surprise attack of diarrhea while stuck in traffic is immeasurably worse than being served ice cream on a beach in Maui by a beautiful local girl in native dress. That kind of worse.
So, this year we are trying the famous western route, the stuff of legend in the Richmond-to-Maine travel world. For years we had heard of its toll free roads, its idyllic traffic and bucolic scenery. Yes, it's a little longer, they would say, but so worth it.
Its definitely longer.
Yesterday it took me 10 hours and 15 minutes to drive to Hartford, Connecticut. There were three backups. During these interminable delays, we comforted ourselves by gazing at the bucolic scenery. Nice....Oh look honey, some cows! On the plus side, I only paid one toll...$1.50.
Today, I'm told by the GPS( Great Pissed-off Sensor ) that I only have 5 hours remaining before arriving at Loon Landing on Quantabacook Lake. Lies. All lies. It will take 5 hours only if there are no accidents, Hong Kong level traffic, no horrific weather event and no backups caused by a couple of minivans pulled over to the side of the road so junior can take a leak in the bushes. In other words...never gonna happen.
But, regardless of what happens on today's leg of this trip, at the end of it we will be at a lake house in Maine.
And that is the best revenge.
No comments:
Post a Comment