Ptown for my birthday.

We went up to Provincetown for my birthday a few weeks ago. The weather was complete shit, but it was a great trip. We cashed in some of my Amtrak upgrades and took the Acela from Philadelphia to Boston in the first class carriage. We spent the 5 hour trip reading the Sunday Times, eating some decent train food, and having more than a couple of drinks. From Boston we took the ferry across the cape and made our way to our bed and breakfast.

It rained a lot while we were there, but I really like being on the water when the weather is terrible. It is a good reminder about the power of mother nature.  When a storm you cannot even see starts whipping the water into a frenzy it inspires awe and fear.

We hiked 8 miles that ended with a delicious lunch at the Canteen. Ptown has plenty of fine dining options, but the Canteen is my favorite place to eat. It can’t get any better than seafood and beer at a shared picnic table. Sam had the banh mi and I had the fish and chips. Both dishes were really good. That evening we went to the Shipwreck Lounge for happy hour. The bartender made an excellent old fashioned. It was raining, cold, and overcast outside. I was sitting inside on a comfortable leather couch, next to the love of my life, with an expertly crafted cocktail in my hand. It was a great birthday.

While at the bar, I overheard an incredible conversation. There was an older gay guy on his cell phone wearing a fur coat.  Here is what I heard:

“How are you? … Oh, just sitting up here on the cape. … I wasn’t sure if you were pissed at me. … That soap just wipes right off of the mirror. … Oh good, most people hate me after something like that. … Come on up.”

He then hung up and went back to his drink. I instantly imagined a scenario that got him to this call. I think he spent some time at a friend’s house and when he left, he wrote a crass note on the mirror in bar soap. I wonder what he wrote? I am sure he thought it was a hilarious joke. Who would do something like that?

As soon as I wrote that last sentence, I slumped. I am pretty sure I would do something like that. I was probably more likely to do that in the past than I am today, but sometimes if you have a joke you just have to tell it. His was a joke that had to land after he had left and in the soap and mirror medium. The setup to punchline ratio seems off.

Sounds like this joke did not work. I guess I wouldn’t do precisely “that,” but the behavior is all too familiar.  Enough, about this weird one sided conversation I overheard on a dark and stormy evening.

When we made it back to Boston we visited the public library so that we could see the public murals.  It’s very beautiful and I recommend it. We had lunch at a place called the Saltie Girl. It’s a delicious seafood restaurant. I loved the crudo dish we had at first. I ordered the seafood pasta (stop carb judging, it was my birthday trip!) and was disappointed. First let me say that the meal was delicious, BUT it was wrong. The dish was listed as a bucatini, but it was a spaghetti. I like spaghetti, but I love bucatini. Do you know why I love it? Hollow noodle means more surface area for sauce to be on.  It’s a perfect noodle. Did I say anything? No, I did not. The pasta was handmade and delicious. I just have strong opinions about pasta shapes and Saltie GIrl missed the mark.

I had a lovely birthday trip. Boston has traumatized me on more than one occasion in the past, but I think we are actually starting to get along.

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