Thursday 12th
We spent the day driving to Chesapeake Bay where we took the ferry across. I tried to interest those around me in the exploits of British troops who having sailed up the Chesapeake in the war of 1812, went on to burn the Capitol and large parts of Washington. They were polite but were clearly more interested in oysters and the promise of strong beer, and I don’t say I blame them.
We spent the evening in a ‘Colonial Tavern’ and here my diary goes awry. I can’t for the life of me remember the name of the tavern, and though I retain a very vivid picture of it in my mind, I can’t for love or money find it on Google. The mind is a wonderful and complex thing but it cannot, as yet, transfer an image through cyberspace. So you’ll have to imagine us sitting at trestles on the Tavern’s green, drinking strong ale and being entertained by jugglers, wigs and fine dresses, and jaunty Colonial airs.
I’m told there are asteroids that pursue long and peculiar trajectories through space, appearing once every ten thousand years or more and then disappearing again. Neurons are pretty much the same. That evening a random neuron ripped through my brain and caused me to do something I still puzzle over all these years later. I poured a jug of beer over Kim Haslinger’s head.
It wasn’t in malice or anger. I think I must have thought it funny at the time. Kim was more puzzled than angry and I sat there, not drunk, but bemused. My only defence was that such behaviour was par for the course on that long, long journey across America, where shaving foam-fights were a nightly routine. And perhaps I was sad…at the burning of Washington…at the fact that my journey across America was coming to an end. It was like the worst ‘frat-pack’ movie gone wrong, and I didn’t have Owen Wilson’s charming smile to make everything right. Worse, it was a waste of good beer. I think Kim and I remained friends…but I haven’t seen her since.
The neuron has yet to make a comeback but I’m afraid it’s probably long over due.
4 comments:
That had to be heck of a strong beer for you to forget the tavern or why you would dump a jug of it on poor Kim.
I might've had to slug you had you done it to me. LOL. But then if I was equally as drunk, I'm sure I would've missed.
I wish you had more pictures of the area. I've never been that far east.
Ref phots, I think I was becoming more jaded as the journey neared its end. Two, maybe three more posts to go and then it's done. It's going to be tough finding things to write about after this because the year in America almost wrote itself.
Ref dunking you with beer, I just wouldn't mess with a woman who kept rotweilers
Hi Mike,
Did you keep a napkin, matches, or anything that might help you remember the name of the tavern?
When I travel, I usually keep a memento from that place. ;)
Claudia, I never thought of that. Mind, I was travelling very light. I did retain some wonderful Vegas tat, along with leaflets along the way,and I did buy some great slides from Williamsburg. But no where near as systematic perhaps as I could have been. 'Regrets, I've had a few...' etc :)
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