![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
choco_froshFirst of all, I’d like to thank everyone who gave me their best wishes that there would not be hurricanes, snowstorms, or tsunami during our Thanksgiving on the outer banks of North Carolina. They worked - nominally. We merely had a massive tropical depression that settled off the coast, raising sandstorms, flooding roads, swallowing beaches, swaying houses, and leaving us – and the supermarket – without power for twenty hours. Yeah, it was an interesting trip.
We left New Haven on Tuesday morning. The plan was that we’d take the train down to DC, rendezvous with Grace’s aunt, uncle and cousins, and promptly get in the car and drive down to NC, where Grace’s parents would fly down and meet us the next day. Well, the train ride down went fine, despite my subconscious mind’s panicking, which had kept me up half the night before. OK, the train was twenty minutes late, but that was expected. Unfortunately, this, combined with one cousin (Molly) getting home from school late, Grace’s aunt being held up at the office (and hence unable to get the food packing done), and assorted logistical difficulties (e.g.: picking up Grace’s grandmother, forgetting stuff) meant that we didn’t get out of the driveway until after 4,, and hence hit the thick of rush-hour-cum-Thanksgiving-weekend traffic. Yeah.
And by this point, the stormy wind had commenced blowing, causing us to reel to and fro on the Virginia state highway as Aunt Terri drove along at 70 mph in the pitch dark. We were, moreover, headed to Salvo, NC. To get to Salvo, you drive out to Nag’s Head (well known to fans of Sluggy Freelance); then you get on another bridge through the driving rain to the next island south, where you drive through the massive sandstorm being raised off the dunes, ford a couple of places where rain and storm surges have combined to flood the roadway to a depth of several inches, and pause for a while while the local police rescue the pets from a veterinarian’s trailer that has gone off the road and looked to be sinking into a newly-formed pond. Then you drive on, navigating the streams of sand blowing across the roadway and the flooded village, to arrive at the DC Pritchards’ rather swanky beach house—at 12:30. You unpack, you fall into bed exhausted, wake briefly in the night when the house is swaying, and get up to find that the power’s out and the road out is closed until further notice.
By some miracle, Grace’s parents’ flight managed to make it through the storm; and the weather actually cleared up and was downright lovely that afternoon. We didn’t really get to appreciate it, though, being preoccupied with trying to find a store open that would sell us candles, locate a turkey (we hadn’t bought one yet…), figure out where Grace’s parents were and eventually get find them overnight lodging when it became apparent that the road would be opening the next day at the earliest, and trying to dry the large patches of carpet that had been soaked by rain that had managed to make its way into the house. All this, of course, without electricity or any reliable means of telephoning to anywhere. It eventually worked out: the Food Lion’s generators failed and they had to throw out all their turkeys (question from a would-be customer: “So where are you throwing them out, exactly?”), but Grace’s parents (still stuck on the wrong side of a bridge) went out and bought one, and were given the loan of an even swankier beach house (including elevator and six flat-screen tv’s) by their relatives’ property manager person. Meantime, we managed to cook dinner on the range (gas, luckily) and buy a horribly scented candle (sir stinkalot) and a couple of flashlights so as to be able to see what we were eating. The power went on at 9 PM (and briefly went out again soon after), and the backhoes cleared the sand off the road so that the rest of the party finally arrived at 5 the next evening, bearing groceries.
So we wound up having Thanksgiving dinner on Friday. It went reasonably well. While waiting for it to cook, we did all the various things that we’d done all weekend: went running, went for lengthy walks on the beach, looking out for seashells and pelicans, sat around reading, occasionally proposed family games (shoulda brought Settlers…), played pool. OK, I didn’t build any further sandcastles, nor did Abbey talk us into watching any more Firefly (like the novel I’d been reading, I’m classifying it as fun, but ultimately missable. At least I now know the origin of the “pretty floral bonnet” reference). We jumped in the hottub briefly after dinner, and then most of us went to bed early, because…
my in laws, my wife, and myself got up at 4:45 AM, in order to get to Newport News in time to catch a train.
5:15: Finally get everything into the car, leave. Arnie has poor night vision. Josh wishes he was doing the driving.
5:25: Remember that have forgotten lunch. Go back.
6:30: Finally get off island. Everyone finally able to relax from worry of giant puddles, and zones out/discusses the climate and culture of the South.
8:10: Arrive at train station, nearly an hour early. Train station small, ghetto; does not seem likely to be able to provide much-needed donuts. Go in search of breakfast.
8:25: WHY ARE THERE NO !@£$%^ DONUT SHOPS IN THIS TOWN?
8:30: Give up and go to 7-Eleven.
8:45: Forced to park illegally in driveway of train station. Hope that car rental people will be able to find car. Board (very full) train. Sleep.
11:00: Held up in Richmond by world’s longest freight train.
8:00 PM: Got back to New Haven, an hour and a half late. Took a taxi to G's parents, where we boiled water for pasta while her parents were off collecting their dinner, their car, and their hyperactive beagle from various locations
9:45 Finally got home, headed for bed. Apt. population of fruit flies has committed suicide in bubble trap of beer.
Quotes of the weekend:
“We could stitch it back together. And have a deep-fried Frankenstein turkey.” –Molly
“Everything’s better with a burning pot of college applications.” --Molly
“Maybe it’s a minority cheese. That’s why it doesn’t get along with the cracker.” –Molly
“Togas go so well with fried chicken.” –Abbey
“I came upstairs with the flashlight that allowed you to fight crime in the shower.” --Molly
“Nothing says fun like a regurgitating turtle.” --Abbey
And the quote which kinda summed up the first 24 hours: “I’m unhappy on the toilet in the dark.” --Molly
We left New Haven on Tuesday morning. The plan was that we’d take the train down to DC, rendezvous with Grace’s aunt, uncle and cousins, and promptly get in the car and drive down to NC, where Grace’s parents would fly down and meet us the next day. Well, the train ride down went fine, despite my subconscious mind’s panicking, which had kept me up half the night before. OK, the train was twenty minutes late, but that was expected. Unfortunately, this, combined with one cousin (Molly) getting home from school late, Grace’s aunt being held up at the office (and hence unable to get the food packing done), and assorted logistical difficulties (e.g.: picking up Grace’s grandmother, forgetting stuff) meant that we didn’t get out of the driveway until after 4,, and hence hit the thick of rush-hour-cum-Thanksgiving-weekend traffic. Yeah.
And by this point, the stormy wind had commenced blowing, causing us to reel to and fro on the Virginia state highway as Aunt Terri drove along at 70 mph in the pitch dark. We were, moreover, headed to Salvo, NC. To get to Salvo, you drive out to Nag’s Head (well known to fans of Sluggy Freelance); then you get on another bridge through the driving rain to the next island south, where you drive through the massive sandstorm being raised off the dunes, ford a couple of places where rain and storm surges have combined to flood the roadway to a depth of several inches, and pause for a while while the local police rescue the pets from a veterinarian’s trailer that has gone off the road and looked to be sinking into a newly-formed pond. Then you drive on, navigating the streams of sand blowing across the roadway and the flooded village, to arrive at the DC Pritchards’ rather swanky beach house—at 12:30. You unpack, you fall into bed exhausted, wake briefly in the night when the house is swaying, and get up to find that the power’s out and the road out is closed until further notice.
By some miracle, Grace’s parents’ flight managed to make it through the storm; and the weather actually cleared up and was downright lovely that afternoon. We didn’t really get to appreciate it, though, being preoccupied with trying to find a store open that would sell us candles, locate a turkey (we hadn’t bought one yet…), figure out where Grace’s parents were and eventually get find them overnight lodging when it became apparent that the road would be opening the next day at the earliest, and trying to dry the large patches of carpet that had been soaked by rain that had managed to make its way into the house. All this, of course, without electricity or any reliable means of telephoning to anywhere. It eventually worked out: the Food Lion’s generators failed and they had to throw out all their turkeys (question from a would-be customer: “So where are you throwing them out, exactly?”), but Grace’s parents (still stuck on the wrong side of a bridge) went out and bought one, and were given the loan of an even swankier beach house (including elevator and six flat-screen tv’s) by their relatives’ property manager person. Meantime, we managed to cook dinner on the range (gas, luckily) and buy a horribly scented candle (sir stinkalot) and a couple of flashlights so as to be able to see what we were eating. The power went on at 9 PM (and briefly went out again soon after), and the backhoes cleared the sand off the road so that the rest of the party finally arrived at 5 the next evening, bearing groceries.
So we wound up having Thanksgiving dinner on Friday. It went reasonably well. While waiting for it to cook, we did all the various things that we’d done all weekend: went running, went for lengthy walks on the beach, looking out for seashells and pelicans, sat around reading, occasionally proposed family games (shoulda brought Settlers…), played pool. OK, I didn’t build any further sandcastles, nor did Abbey talk us into watching any more Firefly (like the novel I’d been reading, I’m classifying it as fun, but ultimately missable. At least I now know the origin of the “pretty floral bonnet” reference). We jumped in the hottub briefly after dinner, and then most of us went to bed early, because…
my in laws, my wife, and myself got up at 4:45 AM, in order to get to Newport News in time to catch a train.
5:15: Finally get everything into the car, leave. Arnie has poor night vision. Josh wishes he was doing the driving.
5:25: Remember that have forgotten lunch. Go back.
6:30: Finally get off island. Everyone finally able to relax from worry of giant puddles, and zones out/discusses the climate and culture of the South.
8:10: Arrive at train station, nearly an hour early. Train station small, ghetto; does not seem likely to be able to provide much-needed donuts. Go in search of breakfast.
8:25: WHY ARE THERE NO !@£$%^ DONUT SHOPS IN THIS TOWN?
8:30: Give up and go to 7-Eleven.
8:45: Forced to park illegally in driveway of train station. Hope that car rental people will be able to find car. Board (very full) train. Sleep.
11:00: Held up in Richmond by world’s longest freight train.
8:00 PM: Got back to New Haven, an hour and a half late. Took a taxi to G's parents, where we boiled water for pasta while her parents were off collecting their dinner, their car, and their hyperactive beagle from various locations
9:45 Finally got home, headed for bed. Apt. population of fruit flies has committed suicide in bubble trap of beer.
Quotes of the weekend:
“We could stitch it back together. And have a deep-fried Frankenstein turkey.” –Molly
“Everything’s better with a burning pot of college applications.” --Molly
“Maybe it’s a minority cheese. That’s why it doesn’t get along with the cracker.” –Molly
“Togas go so well with fried chicken.” –Abbey
“I came upstairs with the flashlight that allowed you to fight crime in the shower.” --Molly
“Nothing says fun like a regurgitating turtle.” --Abbey
And the quote which kinda summed up the first 24 hours: “I’m unhappy on the toilet in the dark.” --Molly
no subject
Date: 2006-11-26 05:17 am (UTC)I'm never wishing you well again!