Monday, October 04, 2004
I forgot to mention the Scenic Overlook
It was last weekend, and we lived it like a champ. We drove down to the Cape (yes, that Cape), looking for fruit and tuxedos, and instead wound up at the Scallop Fest in downtown Bourne. A midway had been set up in Buzzards Bay Park, with all the thrilling games of chance and death-defying motorized amusements you would expect from any halfway decent county fair. We didn’t take a spin on any of the rides, though, ‘cuz I’m afraid of the Ferris Wheel, and the future missus is afraid of everything else. We did both agree on the little green alligator roller coaster, but unfortunately that ride was not designed to accommodate the physique of the modern adult. It was heartening to see that carnies look the same everywhere, however. The scallop dinner was expensive, and I can’t stand me no scallops anyhow, so we just ate a couple ears of native corn. We also got to enjoy an amazing musical performance from Earl Hamontree, a local accountant whose Casio-backed vocal renditions of Buffett and Motown covers are quite popular with those-in-the-know down in Bourne. We also walked around the “Professional Arts and Crafts” exhibit tent, where we learned that the manufacturing (or perhaps selling) of hot tubs and/or jacuzzis is apparently a professional art and/or craft. There were a number of professional authors on the premises, hoping to sell their inspirational Christmas local interest murder mystery children’s books to the fest-goers. One of them was polite enough to have a sign that let us know that a professional author was, indeed, on the premises. After inspecting the portojohns we decided to take leave from the Scallop Fest and hit up some of the local antique stores. As we were exiting, though, a giant cruise ship passed by on the canal that the park overlooked. It was the closest I’ve ever been to a cruise ship, and I was surprised at how massive it was. That was easily the biggest boat I’ve ever seen in my entire life, much bigger than my Uncle Bob’s old pontoon boat. Anyway, we had a good time in the hour or so that we were at the Scallop Fest, but as far as fairs go it was pretty lackluster. I know the North is different and all, but it was weird to go to a fair without an agricultural hall, and where everything wasn’t blanketed in the stench of cow and pig shit.
We hit up a couple of the junk shops across the street from the park before dinner. We found a couch for a hundred bucks that the lady would have picked up if we had had a truck big enough to get it home. Another store had tons of old postcards of various local attractions and buildings of note from around the country. They had one postcard with a church from Dalton on it, and several postcards from the early 1950’s festooned with drawings of the Bulldog Inn. We wound up buying a lot of records from that store, too; for $15 bucks we got ten lps and three cassettes, including stuff by Seger, Fleetwood Mac, Uriah Heap, Pearls Before Swine, Uncle Dave Macon, Dylan, and Bob Wills. We also got an old K-Tel compilation that has the Incredible Bongo Band’s “Bongo Song”, among others. Maybe I’m an idiot, but I had no idea that that damn Coors Light song was based on something Tom T. Hall did in the ‘70’s. His version rules, of course; little baby ducks will always and forever be superior to football and nasty sluts.
We finished off the day with karaoke and overpriced seafood at the Poseidon Lounge, which was right down the street from Buzzards Bay Park. It was just like being back at Embers. Everyone there knew each other except us, everyone sang country songs, and everyone was a damn redneck, despite being from New England. They even had their own version of Worm, some skinny, long-haired, tattooed roofer named Dickie who tunelessly hollared his way through a Doors song and and some C & W song that he directed lecherously toward the dj’s underaged daughter. From what little bit I witnessed, I was able to see that Dickie could be the greatest rock and roll stylist since Jerry Lee Lewis, or that guy from Monster Magnet.
It was last weekend, and we lived it like a champ. We drove down to the Cape (yes, that Cape), looking for fruit and tuxedos, and instead wound up at the Scallop Fest in downtown Bourne. A midway had been set up in Buzzards Bay Park, with all the thrilling games of chance and death-defying motorized amusements you would expect from any halfway decent county fair. We didn’t take a spin on any of the rides, though, ‘cuz I’m afraid of the Ferris Wheel, and the future missus is afraid of everything else. We did both agree on the little green alligator roller coaster, but unfortunately that ride was not designed to accommodate the physique of the modern adult. It was heartening to see that carnies look the same everywhere, however. The scallop dinner was expensive, and I can’t stand me no scallops anyhow, so we just ate a couple ears of native corn. We also got to enjoy an amazing musical performance from Earl Hamontree, a local accountant whose Casio-backed vocal renditions of Buffett and Motown covers are quite popular with those-in-the-know down in Bourne. We also walked around the “Professional Arts and Crafts” exhibit tent, where we learned that the manufacturing (or perhaps selling) of hot tubs and/or jacuzzis is apparently a professional art and/or craft. There were a number of professional authors on the premises, hoping to sell their inspirational Christmas local interest murder mystery children’s books to the fest-goers. One of them was polite enough to have a sign that let us know that a professional author was, indeed, on the premises. After inspecting the portojohns we decided to take leave from the Scallop Fest and hit up some of the local antique stores. As we were exiting, though, a giant cruise ship passed by on the canal that the park overlooked. It was the closest I’ve ever been to a cruise ship, and I was surprised at how massive it was. That was easily the biggest boat I’ve ever seen in my entire life, much bigger than my Uncle Bob’s old pontoon boat. Anyway, we had a good time in the hour or so that we were at the Scallop Fest, but as far as fairs go it was pretty lackluster. I know the North is different and all, but it was weird to go to a fair without an agricultural hall, and where everything wasn’t blanketed in the stench of cow and pig shit.
We hit up a couple of the junk shops across the street from the park before dinner. We found a couch for a hundred bucks that the lady would have picked up if we had had a truck big enough to get it home. Another store had tons of old postcards of various local attractions and buildings of note from around the country. They had one postcard with a church from Dalton on it, and several postcards from the early 1950’s festooned with drawings of the Bulldog Inn. We wound up buying a lot of records from that store, too; for $15 bucks we got ten lps and three cassettes, including stuff by Seger, Fleetwood Mac, Uriah Heap, Pearls Before Swine, Uncle Dave Macon, Dylan, and Bob Wills. We also got an old K-Tel compilation that has the Incredible Bongo Band’s “Bongo Song”, among others. Maybe I’m an idiot, but I had no idea that that damn Coors Light song was based on something Tom T. Hall did in the ‘70’s. His version rules, of course; little baby ducks will always and forever be superior to football and nasty sluts.
We finished off the day with karaoke and overpriced seafood at the Poseidon Lounge, which was right down the street from Buzzards Bay Park. It was just like being back at Embers. Everyone there knew each other except us, everyone sang country songs, and everyone was a damn redneck, despite being from New England. They even had their own version of Worm, some skinny, long-haired, tattooed roofer named Dickie who tunelessly hollared his way through a Doors song and and some C & W song that he directed lecherously toward the dj’s underaged daughter. From what little bit I witnessed, I was able to see that Dickie could be the greatest rock and roll stylist since Jerry Lee Lewis, or that guy from Monster Magnet.
