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devil duck

Comedy of errors

This was the weekend that fit into our schedule to drive to Vermont to deliver a damaged harp to its maker for repairs. It was also the weekend I had a professional meeting to attend on Long Island on Saturday afternoon. But the meeting was scheduled to end at 4 PM, and we figured if shalmestere picked me up there, with the Things, harp, etc. already in the car, we could get to Vermont (we'd reserved at a B&B that allows dogs) at a reasonable hour. Since we were out the Guyland, Google Maps recommended taking the ferry from Port Jefferson to Bridgeport (nothing about "swim the Atlantic") rather than driving back into NYC and out the Connecticut coast, with all the delightful traffic that entails. Conveniently enough, there was a ferry scheduled at 4:45, just about perfect timing.

My meeting, remarkably, actually ended at 4 PM, and I stood out front of the building it had been in to watch for shalmestere. She arrived at 4:20; the car had been low on gas, and I hadn't told her so, so she hadn't budgeted time to stop and fill it. But we raced off, following Google Maps's sometimes-weird directions, hoping to get to the ferry just in time to drive on. As we drove through the cute little streets of Port Jefferson, we switched to hoping the ferry would be delayed. As it turned out, neither of these hoped-for events took place, and we missed the ferry by 5-10 minutes. We considered getting dinner and waiting for the next ferry at 6:30, but estimated that we could get to Bridgeport (and thence to Vermont) faster by driving, so we headed back towards NYC.

There was, of course, annoying traffic, and we got hungry, so we got off the LIE in search of fast food, in an area we should have known well... but we were tired and hungry and in a hurry, so we took a road that has lots of commercial development but no fast food. By the time we found some, shalmestere had been driving for three hours, and we were fifteen miles from home. I took the wheel and drove through additional annoying traffic through the Bronx, to Bridgeport (which we reached half an hour after we would have by ferry, and over two hours later than we had expected to be there), and on towards Vermont. Whenever there wasn't bad traffic, there was rain. We reached the B&B about 11:15 PM.

At which point things turned a bit better. The B&B was in a lovely 19th-century building, in a lovely mountain valley; we arrived too late to take advantage of the traditional Japanese dinner they advertise (the proprietors are an Anglo guy and his Japanese wife), but breakfast was pretty good, if unexceptional. We walked/ran the Things around the back yard several times, and caught up on some sleep before checking out this morning. It happened that the brick-and-mortar Vermont Country Store (from which we had mail-ordered many times) was along our route for the morning, so we stopped there for some cheese, sugar-free sweets, and obscure things that one cannot live without once reminded that they exist. Got to the harp-maker's place a little after noon, handed over the harp to her tender care, and (on her recommendation) had lunch at the café attached to an organic farm. We sat at a picnic table with the Things, admiring the scenery and enjoying a delicious locally-grown salad and not-so-local crab rolls.

The return trip was less hurried, in daylight, with only occasional rather than near-constant rain. We're home now. Home good.


Errors and woes


Not that either of you needed it, but you are hereby forgiven for not standing in the rain in Brokenbridge with the rest of us on Saturday 8)