The alarm actually intruded into my world today at 9AM.
I went out to the deck to grab breakfast, but the place was deserted. Though it wasn’t raining at that moment, the deck was a little wet.
That means breakfast was in the lobby today, and I went down there to avail myself of it. Again, a hard-boiled egg, some cranberry juice, a (sesame seed) bagel, and some coffee. The fruit yesterday was cantaloupe mixed with blueberries. Today it was pineapple mixed with kiwi.
I had a trouble accessing the IBM network after successfully logging in. There was actually a help panel that gave me directions to move my AGN Virtual Network Adapter connection up above my wireless adapter connection in the list found by (right clicking on) My Network Places > Properties > Advanced > Advanced Settings > Adapters and Bindings > Connections box. And it actually worked.
I wanted to access IBM’s intranet, not to work, but to look for a software driver for a friend, which I wasn’t able to find after finally getting into the network.
I contemplated driving down to Nantucket or Martha’s Vineyard today, but after checking the ferry schedules and finding no slots left to go over, and only two to come back — and late this evening at that — which does no good if you can’t get over there to begin with, I bagged that idea. Who knew you had to plan ahead to visit those places?
And I wanted to buy this t-shirt while I was there:
In the early afternoon, I checked out a bike, asking for “number five” this time. They have nine or ten bikes, which are numbered in order of height. Yesterday, I had number six, and it was just a little bit too tall for me.
“Here, go ahead and take four, then,” Steve said.
About a quarter mile down the road, I wished he’d given me five like I’d asked. This one was a little too short.
I decided to forgo the dune trails today (indicated in the map above in the upper left corner — looks like blue bear paw prints), instead opting to ride around this quaint little place called Provincetown. I headed west (indicated in the bottom right corner of the map by the arrow with route 6a above it), since in the past, I’ve always gone east, up to the very tip — out where the beach is.
Soon, I was outside of the “downtown” area of Provincetown and about a half mile further came upon dozens and dozens and dozens of small homes and cottages. I was riding on Route 6A heading back down the Cape, along the coast.
I smiled as I noted resort names that must exist in every beach town, such as The Renegade, as well as the names of privately own cottages, such as “Sea Gull,” “Bill’s on the Bay,” and “The Getaway.”
Eventually, I passed a row of about 20 rental cottages, all very small — square boxes really — all of them painted white, with dark green shutters. They each had a different name prominently displayed on them: Astor, Peony, Begonia, Larkspur, Tulip, and so on. I instantly substituted the Twolips drag name for that last one.
After about two-and-a-half miles, I entered the next town, south of Provincetown, called Truro, and shortly after that, turned around.
I rode back to P-Town, then all across the town on Commercial Street, up to the beach, and then back again on Route 6 East to complete a huge circle around the perimeter of the town — all told a 1.5-hour ride.
Back at my room, I had the second complimentary bottle of champagne that “came with” the room. I put came with in quotation marks, because that’s their perspective. My perspective is that for $189.00 a night for this very small room, it “came from” my wallet.
With it, I had some of the Havarti cheese on the Parmesan-Basil Wheat Thins I’d bought yesterday at the grocery store. Delicious combination of flavors — at least for the first six or so. However, I would never buy those, or probably any, flavored Wheat Thins again. They’re too flavored, especially after the first few. They’d be better with just a hint of the Parmesan-basil flavor.
As I cooled down and relaxed, I drifted off for about an hour nap.
At about 6:30, I walked over to the new Provincetown Public Library, which was completed in the recent past. I’d made a donation to its “Capital Fund,” so have been kept abreast, through newsletter mailings to Raleigh, with its progress.
Through the main entrance and to the left are public computers, near which were a row of chairs filled with a line of people waiting a turn at them. The place is wireless, so if you have your own laptop, you can just fire it up and connect, which is what I did.
After a quick e-mail and blog check, I scanned through my address book in my Palm Pilot to make sure my list of postcard recipients was complete. I needed about four more cards.
Next, I went to another room, toward the rear of the library, in the middle of which I spotted a huge desk. As I took one of the four seats facing each side of the four-sided table, I saw a sign in the very middle of the table that said, “TECHNOLOGY-FREE ZONE. Please, no laptops in this section of the library.” A sign of the times.
By this time it was about 7:00, and I finished about 16 of my 20 cards before they flashed the lights letting us know the place was closing at 8:00.
To my surprise, as I exited the library, I found rain; it was just sprinkling, though.
I walked down Commercial Street looking for the card place in which I’d bought my postcards yesterday. There, I got what I needed, and returned the way I’d come, back up Commercial Street to my dinner destination.
It was 8:00, and being a Tuesday, not at all crowded at The Lobster Pot. I was seated right away, and enjoyed some baked bread dipped in olive oil, while waiting for my salad to arrive. It was included with my choice of entree — the 1.25-pound Boiled Lobster, with a Red Potato. The salad dressing was called “Toasted Sesame Vinaigrette,” and was out of this world.
They were being literal when they said a red potato. This huge lobster arrived, with a small side plate holding one red potato between the size of a golf ball and a tennis ball.
I ordered the White Chocolate Banana Cheesecake with a Caramelized Banana Sauce on it. OMFG! This dessert was incredible. The banana-flavored cheesecake was in a mound, and was completely encrusted in a layer of white white chocolate the thickness, of maybe, a credit card. OMFG!
They had two desserts whose names started with White Chocolate, and she had just written down the first one on the list. When it arrived, it didn’t look like cheesecake, but I took a bite of it.
“Hmm. I taste the white chocolate, but no bananas,” I thought, and reached over to grab a dessert menu laying on the table next to me.
My waitress saw me looking at it, and called from the table next to mine, “Something wrong, hun?”
“Is this cheesecake?” I asked.
“Oh, no. It’s the White Chocolate Grand Marnier Bread Pudding. Sorry about that. Here, let me have it. I’ll be right back.”
I tried to be a big boy and not think about the disdain I have for anything liquidy touching my bread, much less soaking in it. Gross!
The correct dessert arrived very quickly, and well, you already know about it. OMFG!
Back in my room, I finished the four remaining postcards, and the extras I’d bought, and then addressed and stamped all of them.
It was now 11:15 PM, and I headed out to the A-House — with my stack of postcards in hand. I dropped them in the mailbox near the wharf in the center of town, and continued to the alley down which the A-House resided.
Arriving there, I remembered that I liked the little bar next to it better, which is appropriately named “The Little Bar.” One of the things I like about it is that there is no cover charge to get in, and it isn’t full of twinks and muscle boys.
I forgot that it’s really part of the A-House — it’s considered one of the two “bars” in the A-House — the one side called the “Dance Bar,” and this side called, “The Little Bar.” However, it really is like two separate bars, they have separate doors, and though there is a swinging door inside that allows one to move back and forth between the two bars, only the staff can use it.
To my surprise and delight, as soon as I stepped in I found that it was Karaoke night at The Little Bar. Yay, just like being at Flex on Tuesday nights — well, similar, but different. Similar in that it was Karaoke night; different in that the boys could sing, and were pretty, too. Bonus.
I had one bourbon and diet, which was $5.00, and made with whiskey that wasn’t Early Times. Yay.
Earlier in the evening, I had noted a little convenience store, called Essentials, which was the only business (that wasn’t a bar) open on Commercial Street at 11:30 at night.
As I walked home now, I remembered that I’d wanted to send out one more postcard — to Mary Lou — and I wondered if it could possibly be open now at almost 2:00 in the morning. Much to my surprise, and pleasure, it was.
When I stepped in, I didn’t immediately see postcards, so I asked the cashier, “Are postcards ‘essentials’?”
She smiled, and said, “Yes, right down there on the right, hanging on the wall.”
Back at the room, I wrote out Mary Lou’s card, addressed and stamped it, and called it “a night” — my last one — in this little town of which I’m so very, very fond.