It's been about four years since the last time my Minnesota family and I traveled to the Cape for vacation, which is just enough time to develop a need to go again. Personally, I like to go in early July to hopefully attend the Boston Harborfest, but G-Bug's birthday is on the second and her mother likes to celebrate with her. This year, we also had to time the vacation just right to fit in between the various volleyball camps G-Bug was participating, so late July was the best time to go. Mom was able to find a suitable cottage for 6 adults, a teenager, and 2 boys under 10 years old in Orleans. The deposits and airfare were paid well in advance and it was just a matter of waiting for the week to arrive.
Unfortunately, I fell victim to one of the classic blunders. The most famous of which is never get involved in a land war in Asia, but only slightly less well known is this: never take a summer vacation when you work in the HVAC industry. I requested the time off back in May which my boss approved with no issues. The spring had been very mild for Minnesota and for many parts of the country, so we hadn't seen a lot of urgent issues arise for replacement air conditioning parts. Murphy's law being what it is, the week leading up to my vacation was replete with urgent, hot, desperate issues with extreme heat in the Southwest and Northeast. None of these areas are in my territory, but the Midwest finally got hot as well. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to "just monitor" my work emails while on vacation, but would have to take an active role in delegating them to someone still in the office. It looked like I would need this vacation more than ever.
The Wifey, G-Bug and I took separate planes to Boston. I redeemed Delta miles to get a $5 ticket The Wifey used, while G-Bug and I booked the cheapest flight available with Sun Country Airlines. We arrived within an hour of each other, The Wifey first, so she was able to grab a beer or two with my brother while they waited. My brother typically doesn't need to have alcohol to be a schmuck, but once he has some, he can take it up a notch, as evidenced by this text exchange.
Me: Waiting for our luggage at baggage claim #3. Hasn't even started spinning yet.
Bro: Damn it my car is being towed! You're on your own.
Me: I hope you're joking.
Bro: Your blue shirt looks dumb, asshole.
Bro: Yeah, keep chuckling, bitch.
Me: Show your bald head so I can slap it. Or I'll have G-Bug kick your ass.
Bro: Where's Waldo?
Bro: You have no idea.
Bro: By the way, what's with the sex jazz in here?
Bro: You dumbasses!
Bro: Looking the wrong way and shit!
Bro: Should I fart?Turns out my brother and The Wifey were hiding behind a pillar across from the baggage carousal. I sent G-Bug to find them and when she had bird-dogged them, they walked over to where I was standing. Once in range, I delivered on my promise to slap my brother on his bald head.
The walk from the terminal to where my brother parked his car seemed like a watered down version of the Bataan Death March; unpleasant, but survivable. We've had hot and humid days in Minnesota, but just not to a degree like THIS. Back at my brother's house, we chitchatted with his wife and kids. His two boys are 9 (nearly) and 5, but were gracious enough to allow me to change the TV from cartoons to the Red Sox game. It was the first game after the All-Star break and they were playing the hated Yankees, although the rivalry has lost its intensity. We ordered a couple pizzas and drank some beers as we watched the Red Sox squeak out a 4-2 win. We started with a Samuel Adams summer ale, but then my brother introduced me to an interesting beer I hadn't had before. It's called Kentucky Bourbon Barrel Ale and it was very strong with an alcohol content over 8% and matched the cask flavors of the bourbon aging process. I really enjoyed it and hope I can find it in Minnesota.
The next morning we prepped for our trip to the Cape. My brother's youngest had a swimming lesson in the morning and his wife had a tennis lesson. We couldn't pick up the keys to the cottage until after 3p, but we had to be there before 5p, so we had a small window of opportunity. Previous Cape vacations were spent in Eastham, Wellfleet, and Truro, which are part of the Outer (or Lower) Cape. Orleans is included in this region, but it's the most southern, so it is considered "up Cape."
At any rate, it wouldn't take us long to get to Orleans as it would the other places, so we weren't rushed as we packed up our cars. As we did so, my brother treated us to something that has become a taste of New England for me - a dozen Dunkin Donuts.
I realize DD can be found all over the US, but we don't have any in Minnesota. I didn't think there were any in the Midwest until I saw one in Chicago. I washed two donuts down with an iced coffee and the stress of the work week started to dissolve. I couldn't wait to get on the road, mostly because I wanted to get the car's A/C going. We were on our way in short order.
We were making great time on Route 3 in the early part of the ride, but the road started to clog with traffic when we were about 20 miles from the Sagamore Bridge, the official starting point of Cape Cod. This was a little frustrating, but not unexpected.
Right before the bridge, Route 3 becomes Highway 6 and the road splits for people who want to take the scenic highway either north or south of the bridge. The split creates a large shoulder for those who are continuing onto the bridge and is a tempting invitation for opportunists who want to cut ahead of those waiting. A second lane does form on the bridge for people on Highway 6 who want to take it across the canal; however, the intent is not for there to be a right hand land that blends into the on-ramp - too much risk for accidents. This did not prevent my brother, perhaps annoyed by those drivers whipping past him, to move out of the lane and onto the shoulder. I wasn't quick enough to follow, but figured I could catch up to him once across the bridge. That was until I got behind a driver with Maine license plates.
This car was coming from the on-ramp and looked to be cutting in front of me, in spite of his having a lane of his own. He took his time to get completely over, all the while never using his turn signal. I was caught behind him across the bridge and for several miles afterwards. I saw a slow moving car in the right lane I could pull in front of and make up the distance to catch my brother, but the guy from Maine was just about matching its pace. It's then I realized that Maine drivers are the Wisconsin drivers of New England, and Wisconsin drivers annoy me to no end. I had visions of my brother putting more and more miles between us as I was stuck behind the Pepperidge Farm yokel. I needn't have worried though as the Maine driver eventually caught up to my brother and I followed him the rest of the way to Orleans.
We had used the address to the main office of the rental company for our GPS, but the keys were available at another office on the other side of the highway. We had to walk two or three blocks to get to it and we arrived at 3p on the dot. Two minutes later, we left with our bucket of goodies and saw the Nauset Grill across the street. None of us had eaten since breakfast, so we decided to grab a late lunch. Not only did this restaurant have lobster rolls (the other food item I insisted on having on this trip), but they had lobster club rolls. Bacon AND lobster?! Do they mix? Since this was our first moment on the Cape, I wanted to pace my special memories, so I opted for a Cape Cod Reuben, a grilled cod fillet with cole slaw and a special Nauset sauce. It was good, but didn't measure up to a lobster roll. All in due time!
Finding the cottage was a little bit of an ordeal. Turns out we weren't at 19 Capt. Linnell Road as the directions the rental agent gave us told us we would be. We were at 91 Capt. Linnell Road. We had no problems getting into the small community where the cottage was, and got excited as we read off the house numbers.
"There's seven! Nine! Eleven! Twenty?! What the hell?!" This, unfortunately, is the clean version. With every turn, we got further and further from our cottage. Actually, we were very close to it, but we didn't know it at the time. My brother even stopped to ask someone who was pruning a tree if he knew where 19 was. He said the road is basically just a big circle, so we should find it. On a hunch, I double checked an email Mom had sent about the property and found the house numbers were transposed. We still drove by it once more before entering the gravel driveway.
The cottage was absolutely great, but the first order of business was to get the A/C units and fans running as the house was hot and muggy. This gave us a good opportunity to check out the amenities. The ground floor was a large common area. A dining table greeted you at the door by the driveway and this was next to a walk through kitchen. Just beyond that was the living room complete with a large flat screen television. There was one bedroom and a full bathroom. The Wifey and I had this bedroom. The half level upstairs had the main bedroom, a full bath, and a small bedroom with three beds for the kids. The Tutus took the main bedroom with the kids had the smaller room. The finished downstairs had another television and L-shaped couch with a ping pong table set up. There was also a laundry room, a half bath, storage, and another bedroom. My brother and his wife had this room for the first couple of nights, but then moved upstairs because of a moldy smell in the basement. My sister-in-law has asthma and there was a concern about long-term exposure of any molds or spores that might be in the air.
We spent the afternoon getting the stuff out of the cars and into the house. I wanted to watch the Red Sox game, so G-Bug and I were left with the kids while the others went grocery shopping for snacks and items for our big dinner the next night. The Tutus arrived a few hours later and after clearing out their car, we took a little tour of the grounds and surrounding area. We were less than a mile from Skaket Beach and the Captain Linnell House, which is a fine dining restaurant.
We stayed on the beach long enough for my brother and his kids to get about waist deep in water without bathing suits. His youngest found a dead horseshoe crab that became a source of amusement.
As the sun set behind a bank of clouds, we made tentative plans for what we would do on the morrow. Back at the cottage, we played ping pong and drank beers and Dark & Stormy's, which is a mix of rum and ginger beer, until it was time to go to bed.
Next: The Next Days
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