The Magical Mystery Tour- Redux..

The reverse trip.. Travels with the boy are kind of like “Alice, Let’s Eat” with a boy and his Mom instead, and lacking the writing talent part..

The dynamic of the drop off and the pick up are different due to timing.. dropping the lad off on a Sunday between 2 and 4? This affords some flexibility for those coming from the top of the state, thus it is tiring, but do-able for a round trip same day. The pick up deal, not so much. Pick up between 8 and 11 on a Saturday morning? Sorry, not getting my happy ass up at 3AM- not gonna happen. So the Mom goes down Friday, sees the nephew and grand nephews (Oy- I feel so old) chows some blue crabs and heads over the Bay Bridge Tunnel to get the Hurricane bright and early Saturday morning.

The drill goes- haul it up the eastern shore, arrive at camp. Pull up to the cabin. Get a death defying hug from the little dude- it’s sweet that he really could care less if the guys see him jump up and give Mom the death hug. Check 3 times for the stuff he swears is all in the bag - not.. Check out with the counselors. Now little dude generally wishes to introduce the Mom to the semi adults that have been in charge of him, and most of the short people he’s been hanging out with. This is fine, he’s a very social creature, I’m accustomed to this. Myself, I want to verify that he hasn’t behaved like he was raised by wolves.. and to make sure he had a HUGE amount of fun. Now, selfishly I will admit that this camp seems to attract incredibly hot counselors from all over the world. Spending ten minutes inquiring as to the camp experience from an amazingly hot Brazilian guy isn’t torture.. yeah, so sue me.

Then we hit the road..

Mom-

Yes?

Is the Clam Shack open?

Well Buddy it’s 9:00, I don’t know.

Can you have a couple of dozen little necks for breakfast?

I see no reason not- let’s stop and see.

So, after stopping to pick up some shrimp and clams and crab from Tony- the guy that always has the best seafood in his side of the road stand.. Grab some ice, pack the cooler- away we go.

Woo Hoo- the Clam Shack opens at 9:00.. well hell yes we’re having a few dozen steamers for breakfast..

Just prior to Williamsburg..

Mom?

Yes?

We stopping for BBQ?

It’s a little early for lunch son.

Please???

OK-

Pit stop for a little pulled pork- one with, one without, thanks.

Crawling up 95- the highway from hell.. after a million years of cruising at 2 MPH the lad spies the exit sign for Culpeper.

Mom?

Yes Honey?

Culpeper, that’s where the nice Thai place and the good French bakery are, right?

Yep- that’s it.

Can we stop?

No Buddy, way too far out of the way and we’re in traffic hell here as it is.

Long pause..

OK.

Mom. There’s another BBQ place on the way home before Aunt Baby Sister’s isn’t there?

Yes son, there is.

So that would be snack time, right?

Yep- I expect so dear…



Who am I to deny the boy his pulled pork?


Mom?

Yes dear?

Are we stopping for peaches and tomatoes?

I expect so son.

If I don’t make a mess can I eat a few in the back seat?

Sure, just wipe up the mess baby.

Pit stop to see old Mr. Claude.. who was probably farming when Moses was a teenager.. At 84 still runs the stand and has left the farming to the progeny. Holds no truck with “pess-di-sides” unnatural he claims. Oddly he always remembers us and is the sweetest old dude around. Peaches, tomatoes, corn.. It’s all good. The universe is kind sometimes- he pulls out a bit of the Prosciutto of the south- for real country ham. I damn near faint.. No offense to those nice folks in Smithfield- but the real damn deal. Put up old school, by a man with the talent- Not allowed by law to sell it, but for a regular, a little lagniappe.. Oh hell yes! Thank you, thank you thank you!!!!!!!!! Died and gone to heaven, thank you very much.. The mind reels with the thoughts of what the contents of the cooler and the trunk (minus the 2 weeks of the Hurricane's dirty laundry) will bring forth. Oh help me, I feel faint!!!!!!!!

The remaining 40 miles or so are spent plotting what to do with the plunder-

Life is sometimes kind..

It’s good to have my little buddy back.


P.S.- Oh, the injustice..the damn stove completely freaked out on me tonight and is now dead- In the middle of broiling glazed salmon steaks-

ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hysteria commence!!!!!!! I can live without a phone, the TV, the computer.. but no stove?? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.. And the damn thing is a fucking month out of warranty. Breathing deeply, trying not to descend into total hysteria,

Someone up there hates me, I swear..