We drove from Vermont to Cape Cod and spent the night. Got up the next morning and saw Walden Pond and Plymouth Rock just in time to catch a Red Sox game.
I think Henry Thoreau might be sad to see his secluded little woods today. Walden pond is beautiful, but it looks like this, and smells like a mixture of sunscreen and urine.
This would have been Henry's view if he walked straight from his little cabin to the pond. Turns out it was actually his friend, Ralph Waldo Emerson's land and he let him live on it for a couple of years in a tiny little cabin built by Henry himself. Rumor also has it that he wasn't quite the recluse everyone talks about. He walked into town every other day and at meals with people and hung out.
Here it is...THE Plymouth Rock! I know...kind of disappointingly small huh? Well, this is actually 1/3 of its original size! Besides erosion, people used to come by with chisels before they built a monument complete with cage and guard around it. Plymouth in modern-times is a big man-made landscape, with park benches and golf-course grass and tourist traps...I mean, shops. The guard told me that originally Plymouth was a huge, flat, sandy beach with barely any slope at all. So the only landmark on the beach that stood out was this huge rock, that pilgrims tied their dingys to, hence, making it the big deal of it's time.
This is a replica of the Mayflower. For $36 you can tour it. For free you can stand here and take pictures of it...like I did.
The Hot Dog Story
So THERE I was...at Fenway Park! It's been a dream of mine to see a ball game here for a few years now. Not because I'm an avid baseball fan, but I AM a huge movie fan, and a lot of movies that I love take place in Boston. Like Goodwill Hunting, my favorite of all movies. Plus its the oldest ballpark in Major League Baseball history. We hadn't eaten all day, and Boston traffic is truly the worst I've ever been in, especially when you have a Garmin that can't keep up with city speeds. I came close to punching Mel in the face, but really, it was Garmin's blame. We hadn't eaten since breakfast. We get to the park an hour before the game. There is a rain delay so we cannot go to our seats yet. We get food. We stand over a trashcan to eat. About the 3rd bite of wolfing that hot dog...choking, gagging, can't swallow. I run to the bathroom. Cannot make myself throw up. Can. Not. The only thing coming out is clear water. I can't even swallow my spit. Mel gets the Fenway medics, who LOUDLY MOVE people out of the way to get me to the clinic. "COMIN' THROUGH! WE GOT A CHOKER! THIS IDIOT HAS A TINY FAIRY THROAT!" Well...they said something along those lines anyways...Clinic can't help me. They call the ambulance, put me on a stretcher. (Looking SO forward to THAT bill coming in.) ...I.V. inserted into my right arm. 5 hours of being pumped full of muscle relaxers. They decide to call the G.I. team in, take me to ICU, sedate me and remove the hot dog from my esophagus(not my windpipe, Heimlich wouldn't work). The moment they say ICU I tell Mel to call my mom. One last gag, and I threw up the hot dog. No ICU. So grateful God didn't let it go any further. But, EXTREMELY embarrassed, SUPER sad I missed the game and wasted the $35 tickets for me AND my friends. I guess all these years of making fun of my mom for having a "small throat" and taking a long time to eat have come around to bite me. This was the next morning. They wouldn't even let us on to the field to just take a few pictures :(
I'll give you another try sometime though Boston. I still love you.
