The Trip Up

We decided to spend Labor Day with Pat's evil mother, Marian. Because Marian's other daughter, Maureen, has put a hex on us we decided to drive rather than fly from Florida to Foxboro where Pat's evil mother's castle is located. The trip did not begin auspiciously. On our first night, arriving in 'the Paris of North Carolina', Fayetteville, we found that our favorite restaurant, Jonathan's, had gone out of business during a messy divorce proceeding. Such is life in these modern times.

Fortuitously, our second night found Lestardo's Crab House, in the blighted town of New Castle, DE, to be prospering. Their hard blue crabs still came loaded with Bay Seasoning, forcing any eaters to cool their burning lips with unending pitchers of beer, 'Honey Brown' being the popular local potable.

Day 3 - Rain. Headed north up the NJ Turnpike. Pretty smooth sailing until we hit the dreaded Interchange 18E, the end of the road. It was like, 11:30 AM and the traffic is backed up at the toll booths. Killed a half hour. I had forgotten how miserable the northeast is.

Pit stop at the infamous Vince Lombardi service area. Crawling with state cops, oddball assortment of people wandering about (made us look good!), grime, gloom. I lived in this state for 55 years? Good God! Why is this service area infamous? Ask any truck driver why the formerly friendly CB appellation, 'Good Buddy' has turned into an insult. It happened here.

Killed another 45 minutes at the GW Bridge. Onto the Cross Bronx. The Bronx makes Vince Lombardi look like Rome at the height of it's imperial grandeur. At least the Bruckner circle is long gone. Thank the Lord for small favors.

Exit 15 on the New England Thruway. Accident. Another 45 minutes gone. We've been coming up this damned road for over 30 years and it's ALWAYS been under construction. AND IT NEVER GETS ANY BETTER!

  

Our Visit

We finally arrived in Foxboro for a weekend of galas.
Here are some pictures of the events.

Foxboro By Day	Foxboro By Night
Newport, RI, By Day	Newport, RI, By Night
The Saturday before Labor Day Chuckie and Laura had a cookout. They are the hitherto unidentified couple standing in front of the Rolls Royce in Michael and Reagan Get Married. Here are pictures of their cookout.
Laura and Chuckie's Cookout By Day	Laura and Chuckie's Cookout By Night

Speaking of Michael and Reagan (pronounced 'Reegan'), they gave us this nice picture of themselves. Now everyone can see what Michael looks like.

 

Reagan's hair shirt

If you read about Michael and Reagan's wedding you are no doubt aware that Reagan (pronounced 'Reegan') is on the fast track towards sainthood. You will also be pleased to find that Reagan (pronounced 'Reegan'), being the modern woman she is, has found a totally new means of mortification, a definate must for saints and would-be saints. No leaping into rose bushes and thrashing around in the thorns, as did St. Rose of Lima. Nor will she roll in the effluvia of sick people, an activity St. Theresa once used to pass the time. No, Reagan (pronounced 'Reegan') has found a better method. Let me remind you that this is a TRUE story. Reagan doesn't like dishwashers and their new house came with a dishwasher. Their kitchen doesn't have much counter space so Reagan stores the dirty dishes in this dishwasher. When she's ready, she removes the dishes and washes them by hand. THEN SHE RUNS THE EMPTY DISHWASHER TO CLEAN IT OUT!

Our Return

Our return trip included a stop in New Jersey where we dined and got plastered with some folks Frank once worked with. No names will be mentioned in order to protect their reputations. It can be said that we tried to fix up the Fiery Redhead with Jack the Waiter. Although Jack seemed hot to trot, she would have none of it, much to the disappointment of those of us with our videocams at the ready.

To briefly,jump ahead, one of the most bitterly disappointing moments on the return trip was our stop in Perry, GA. Anxious to wash the trail dust out of our mouths, we repaired to the Green Derby Restaurant. We were advised that Perry was located in a county that was DRY on Sundays. We choked down our repast accompanied by ice tea, a combination unheard of in the civilized world.

An Exciting Time Having visited The Breakers, Cornelius Vanderbilt II's mansion in Newport, RI, we decided to visit Biltmore, his son's estate in Ashville, NC. Unfortunately, I40 was closed so we were shunted off onto Rt. 70, a two lane road meandering through the Smokies. The Tennessee portion was especially interesting, what with kitchen appliances and couches on the tumbledown porches. The whole thing reminded me of a certain movie which I will not name here. Fortunately, the car didn't run out of gas or break down. I would have felt really awful locking myself inside and sending Pat out for help. When we finally got home we had to rush to Leverock's so I could have three 'nooners' (doubles) to calm my frayed nerves. Tanqueray martinis are a good way of accomplishing just that.

The bottom line is that it's good to go up north every once in a while to remind yourself of what you left behind - precious little.

 

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