A little known side trip with THE PARENTS
Hi again folks! If you are wondering how I’m cranking out these trip reports so quickly, blame it on the Dominican Republic. Mary and I are in the midst of a two week all-inclusive vacation here in Puerto Plata. I usually spend my mornings sitting out on the balcony writing. It is quite inspirational!
Although the Asian Trip Reports required incredible brainpower on my behalf, a little known side trip that summer was unfortunately pushed to the backburner of my writing priorities. However, now that I find myself relaxed and wanting to write more, my poor parents will once again be unable escape the playful wrath of my writing.
Beside, who doesn’t want to write or at least talk about having a trip with your parents/in-laws for the third summer in a row? We didn’t go nearly as far this time since Asia was on the agenda but it was far enough to create the usual elements necessary to poke fun at.
Day 1 En Route to the Big Apple
Alas, the border proved to be a traumatic time for my father once again. As we were about to cross into New York State, the conversation went like this:
“Good Morning Sir, where are headed today?”
“New York”
“Yes sir, that is quite obvious since this is a New York border station.”
“Pardon?”
“Never mind…where in New York sir?”
“For about two weeks.”
“Sir, step out of your truck with your hands behind your head.”
“Have a good day too…”
After an extremely stressful two-hour interrogation, we entered New York State promising that New York CITY was our intended destination.
Our first campsite in the Adirondacks, situated near a shallow stream, was striking. My father convinced me to swim while leaving our sandals near the shore. The powerful current propelled two grown men far away from their footwear until being beached was the only option. There is no better feeling than having your ass constantly scarred by sharp, giant pebbles while rushing water attempts to carry you forward. We struggled to shore and had to walk barefoot down a gravel path to reach our sandals four kilometres upstream. It was one of those father-son bonding experiences…
My dad woke up the entire campsite the next morning with the usual routine. His keyless remote has a panic button on it that sticks out too far. When activated, the truck horn enthusiastically engages along with a spectacular light show courtesy of the headlights. His pocket quarters were always too tight causing this predictable commotion. When this happened the conversation usually went like this between my parents….
“Gerry, did you accidentally press the car horn again?”
“Whose truck is that, is that our truck?”
“Gerry, for Christ’s sake, turn it off, you’ll wake the neighbours!”:
“Where are my keys?”
“Gerry, check your pockets, oi, yoi, yoi…this is so embarrassing….”
“Is that the U.S. border patrol coming for us again?”
Day 2 GPS
I’m a lover of the GPS…heck, I bought one on this trip. However, it managed to completely ignore the fact that our scenic approach to New York City was not a designated truck route. The entire family ducked every time we barely cleared an underpass (remember, we were towing a 30 foot 5th wheel) before some kind New Yorkers screamed at us to get the hell off the Palisades Parkway.
We ended up eating lunch beside a New Jersey strip mall and promptly barricaded ourselves within the trailer. My father accidentally set off panic button again causing unnecessary attention from the parking lot’s seedy inhabitants.
Our campsite, miraculously, was so close to Lower Manhattan, we could see the Statue of Liberty out the window. The Campsite didn’t have any shrubbery, trees or grass. It was a gravel parking lot without sewer hook-up costing $60.00 a night. My father, predictably, grumbled about the price unaware that campsites further along on this journey would end up costing far more.
Instead of heading into town to experience the world’s most diverse choice of cuisine, my mother fried up some frozen fish packaged back in 1997. The consequential smoke from the frying pan caused the city to issue a smog alert and the resulting temperature within the trailer drove us outside onto our gravel lawn within minutes.
Mary and I headed into town to catch a Broadway show (we are seasoned veterans of the Broadway scene going down to NYC every Easter Long weekend to see at least five shows). My mother, meanwhile, furiously “Febreezed” the trailer to eliminate the 10 year old fish odour while my father continued to grumble about the cost of the campsite to anyone who would listen.
Day 3 The Gabby Cabby
My dear parents have a habit of announcing their every move to each other. Sometimes the information is useful to Mary and I when they are planning to cook more fish. However, routine teeth brushing and hair curling are activities best left unannounced.
We had a former New York City cab driver (some of you might know his radio show) called the Gabby Cabby. Since my father hates driving in big cities, we thought we’d treat him to a stress free day.
This man was hilarious in his sarcasm and was quite appalled when my father hesitated buying him lunch halfway through the tour. The conversation went something like this…
“So I’m gonna take you guys to Coney Island for lunch…”
“Is it required that we buy you lunch considering the astronomical fee my son has already surrendered to you?”
“What the hell you cheap bastard! If you don’t buy me lunch, you’ll be the first ever not to do so… be my guest but remember I run a highly popular syndicated radio talk show”
“So you’ll buy your own lunch then?”
You don’t even want to know what happened when my father hesitated in tipping the cabby at the end of the tour…
The Gabby Cabby is a worthwhile experience. Although Mary and I thought we knew NYC backwards, he rattled off some impressive stats while showing us great off the beaten path attractions. If this were a travelogue on NYC, I’d go into further detail, but I’m much rather focus on my parents’ behaviour.
We took my wonderful parents to a Broadway show entitled Avenue Q. This is essentially a show about puppets suspiciously resembling Sesame Street characters crudely depicted in mid-life crisis. Surprisingly, my parents found is quite amusing and were not as disturbed as Mary and I hoped they would be.
Day 4 NYC Subway and other famous environments
Nothing is more entertaining than seeing my prim and proper mother sit on the subway train clutching her purse until her knuckles turn white from lack of circulation. Adding to the comic relief was my dear wife, having relinquished her seat to her mother-in-law, surrounded by drunken college frat boys speaking far too loudly. Meanwhile, my father sat next to my mother grinning at my wife’s predicament.
While in Chinatown, my poor mother walked over a meticulous display of pirated DVD’s, causing the street vendor to have a hissy fit. My father could not stand the traffic noise so I led him away to explore side streets with just as much traffic noise.
Later on, my father and I nearly died of thirst. He refused to fund the bottled water empire based on the assumption Central Park would have drinking fountains. Later he succumbed to the pressure grumbling that this purchase cost more than the tip he gave the Gabby Cabby.
My mother and stunning wife were nearly arrested in a Subway station when mom tried in vain to exit a turnstile. Her application of the MetroCard was not recognized as standard procedure prompting a visit from a plainclothes NYPD official. He let them go on the promise that he could sample some ten year old fish in the future.
As a touristy note, the best view of the former World Trade Center sight is within it. That’s right folks…it has taken me over 14 trips to NYC since 9/11 to realize the subway station is right in the middle of ground zero with plenty of viewing opportunities.
We ate at a deli for lunch in an atmosphere that completely overwhelmed my father. The business lunch crowd was quite boisterous and the seating capacity was tight. The veal parmesan sub was not to his liking either. Meanwhile, I scouted the area for a decent washroom since my poor parents had no access to one in the crowded and noisy deli. It was a true New York City experience.
We saw another show that night, A Chorus Line. I do believe my parents were beginning to understand our obsession with this amazing city.
Day 5 The Commute
My mother woke us all up while chasing potato beetles with a fly swatter. We predictably got stuck in a traffic jam while exiting the city. We finally made it into Connecticut and set up shop in a quieter campground. While stopping en route, the idling of thousands of 18-wheelers caused my father to forgo his usual routine of reading the Rest Area historical information. He is usually the only human being who ever does.
Mary and I went grocery shopping unsupervised and sought out exotic junk food. I found cheddar cheese pretzels and 24 500 ml cans of Bud Ice. I only bought those because of the higher alcohol content, much to my father’s disapproval. Later on that night, I threw the disgusting pretzels into the fire only to smoke out our neighbours with a toxic roasted cheese smell. A skunk ate the rest of them.
Days 6 + 7 Mansions
We visited the Newport Mansions in Rhode Island for the next two days delighting my mother. She hurriedly packed two exquisite lunches in a row consisting of tuna fish sandwiches and apples to celebrate the occasion. During the evenings, to my father’s horror, he watched Mary epilate. This process (usually done in private when not forced to live in close quarters with your in-laws) involved guided a vicious contraption up and down the female leg to remove unsightly hair. My father quickly turned his attention to building a fire that I could not start. He preferred drowning himself in wood smoke (a scent he hates but I love) to watching his daughter-in-law maul her beautiful legs while whimpering in pain.
Day 8 The Flags
My unfortunate father used a product today that foamed in your ears to remove inaccessible wax. The whole procedure looked more like rabies gone wild. His day was not going well as our new campsite neighbour pulled up in the overflow lot we were now stuck in. This two million dollar motor home the size of a bus ran its diesel engine all day long to operate the generator. Perhaps Dad should have kept the wax where it was…
While visiting a historic seaport in Mystic, Connecticut, colourful flags attached to numerous boats caught my father’s eye. Being the friendly guy that he is, he approached some young, shirtless men partying on deck. After declining their invitation to join them, he quickly scurried away with me in tow after learning the rainbow flags were the symbol of gay pride.
My father was fascinated with a rope making exhibit and for the next two hours, read every single possible literature available about ropes. After reaching the end of my rope, we met the shopping ladies in downtown Mystic and had some pizza. The only other incident of note was the horn signalling the drawbridge was about to lift. It irritated my father almost as much as the diesel engine next to our campsite.
That night Mary made burritos. Somehow they always taste better when she folds them…yes, pathetically I don’t fold my own pitas for school lunches or in this case burritos. Finally, my parents could tease me. I’m such a good sport.
Day 9 En Route
I shocked my parents with their GPS today. Secretly, I switched the spoken voice to Italian. Unfortunately, it came at a time when my father was driving in heavy Cape Cod traffic and didn’t know where the hell he was going.
Day 10 Cape Cod traffic
Our last stop on this mini-vacation was overrun Cape Cod. We had a beautiful campsite but neighbours from hell. They proudly displayed dirty undergarments, half eaten food and urine soaked board games on their picnic table with no regard for the environment around them. We secretly labelled them as T-squared…(trailer-trash)
Day 11 A rainy day
Although my father can’t stand loud noises, he loved the sound of the Harleys firing up every morning at 7:30 a.m. in a nearby campsite. Perhaps he was hoping T-squared would be rattled from a deep slumber the same way they awoke us every night arriving at their campsite after midnight. The weather didn’t co-operate today so we headed to Wall-Mart and Costco to shop. Mary and I wanted to purchase our own GPS and a Nintendo Wii. We found neither…
We did find the historic port of Plymouth that fascinated my father to no end. My mother wasn’t impressed as souvenir shopping was limited. We all gazed admiringly at Plymouth Rock though. It was quite a slab of granite.
For dinner Mary made seafood chowder and to this day remains one of my father’s all time favourite meals after anything my mother makes of course…
Day 12 Why the fuss?
We drove all the way to the end of Cape Cod to a place called Provincetown (affectionately known as P-Town to the locals) Upon our arrival, my father gasped as we witnessed rainbow coloured flags flying everywhere. The town was engulfed in gay pride festivities for the whole weekend. After an abrupt turn around that left us literally trapped within narrow streets, we headed back to the campsite.
As our final stop on this vacation, we relaxed in the gingerbread cottage laced island of Martha’s Vineyard. It was a surreal experience that calmed everyone’s nerves. The horrific traffic of Cape Cod was difficult to comprehend since the water at all the nearby beaches was too cold for swimming anyway.
Day 14 Heading Home
We drove through Boston and the tax-free haven of New Hampshire before residing in a campground in Vermont for our last night. Although this trip wasn’t in magnitude or scope like Alaska 2005 or California 2006, it still provided ample opportunity to tease my tolerant parents. After all, what is a trip report really without making fun of someone?
