Five years ago today....part IV
Sunday, May 21, 2000
Ken and I spent an evening at the Westin Peachtree Plaza. We woke early and trotted down to Starbucks for a cup o' coffee and dry, tasteless scones (they really need to work on this aspect of their salesmanship). Then we met up with my uncle Kevin and we jumped aboard MARTA. We traveled to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Intl. Airport and boarded a very small, very old USAir plane.
I was doped up with Dramamine. We had a layover in Pittsburgh, then arrived in Boston at the Logan Airport shortly after 1pm. The airport shuttle bus carried us over to a car rental stop. The driver hardly ever sat down....he spent most of his time leaning out of his window, cursing, waving fists, and beeping the horn. Our suitcases slid around at our feet. We tried to appear calm. We rented a Hyundai Sonata and drove like mad trying to get out of that freaky city.
We got our map out, and proceeded to make it up pleasingly quiet, country roads towards our destination, Portsmouth, New Hampshire. It felt like a port town in England, though we've never been there. The overcast skies, foggy clouds everywhere, the ships wherever you turned your eye. We checked into the Martin Hill Inn and immediately felt weird after meeting the strange, bitter owners. It felt a little bit like the Twilight Zone. We were put up in our reserved room, the master bedroom, which was elegant and full of gorgeous antiques....but a bit stuffy.
We unpacked, explored the inn's gardens a while, then went and had dinner at The Stockpot, a local sandwich shoppe and deli. We warmed up (it was about 50 degrees that night) with African Chicken Peanut Soup, and rounded off our meal with a nicely prepared dish of tiramisu. We headed back to the sleepy in for the night. It was only about 9:00, but I think we were the only ones awake when we returned. I stood in the narrow, crooked stairway as Ken fiddled with the 7o-year-old lock on the front door. Finally the eccentric owner came and locked it for us, giving us a wary eye. Boy, we sure hoped that not everyone in New England was as guarded as this fellow.....
Ken and I spent an evening at the Westin Peachtree Plaza. We woke early and trotted down to Starbucks for a cup o' coffee and dry, tasteless scones (they really need to work on this aspect of their salesmanship). Then we met up with my uncle Kevin and we jumped aboard MARTA. We traveled to Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta Intl. Airport and boarded a very small, very old USAir plane.
I was doped up with Dramamine. We had a layover in Pittsburgh, then arrived in Boston at the Logan Airport shortly after 1pm. The airport shuttle bus carried us over to a car rental stop. The driver hardly ever sat down....he spent most of his time leaning out of his window, cursing, waving fists, and beeping the horn. Our suitcases slid around at our feet. We tried to appear calm. We rented a Hyundai Sonata and drove like mad trying to get out of that freaky city.
We got our map out, and proceeded to make it up pleasingly quiet, country roads towards our destination, Portsmouth, New Hampshire. It felt like a port town in England, though we've never been there. The overcast skies, foggy clouds everywhere, the ships wherever you turned your eye. We checked into the Martin Hill Inn and immediately felt weird after meeting the strange, bitter owners. It felt a little bit like the Twilight Zone. We were put up in our reserved room, the master bedroom, which was elegant and full of gorgeous antiques....but a bit stuffy.
We unpacked, explored the inn's gardens a while, then went and had dinner at The Stockpot, a local sandwich shoppe and deli. We warmed up (it was about 50 degrees that night) with African Chicken Peanut Soup, and rounded off our meal with a nicely prepared dish of tiramisu. We headed back to the sleepy in for the night. It was only about 9:00, but I think we were the only ones awake when we returned. I stood in the narrow, crooked stairway as Ken fiddled with the 7o-year-old lock on the front door. Finally the eccentric owner came and locked it for us, giving us a wary eye. Boy, we sure hoped that not everyone in New England was as guarded as this fellow.....
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