The Great Maine Adventure IV...A Natural Born Leader!

As I start day one of the Great Maine Adventure IV a realization has come across me that may change my entire outlook of this trip. I don't know how many of you have actually experienced a true epiphany but his morning as I look out upon Attean Lake, with the mist rising from the water and the birds singing their morning songs a remarkable realization has crept into my head.

For years my friends asked me to join them on this annual pilgrimage to the Maine woods. They enticed me with stories of the beautiful serene setting, images of wildlife never before seen and even suggested that some of the lovely young eastern European women that work here for the summer might be looking for a green card. Not being the outdoorsy type I fought the idea for as long as I could, but several years ago I decided to join them and become a member of the Attean Lake vacation clan.

It has taken me four years but today as I sit here watching a loon glide across the lake I have concluded why my friends have asked me to join them. No, its not because I am a natural born leader, a person who can motivate a group to go above and beyond what they normally would not try to do. No, its not because I am an OCD time obsessed maniac who schedules everything from his morning constitution to his evening shower. No, its not because I am a witty and a damn funny person who people enjoy being around.

I have not been asked for any of the reasons above. Their clever plan blindsided me for years, but this morning as I silently crept about the cabin so as not to awaken any of them, I found the leash that attaches to Iko the Pug who I was charged to walk in the morning because “no one gets up as early as you Michael”. And it struck me.

My friends, I am their stinking butler.

Yes their butler. A dog walking, coffee getting, kayak schlepping, Mr. Belvedere, Mr. French, Carson and Jeeves rolled up in one. The signs were all there. Paul and Christine requesting I refer to them as Lord and Lady Falzone, Sam and Will showing disdain that I had not packed the cooler with enough ice and Richel, sweet innocent Richel ringing that damn little bell every time my presence is requested.

I am truly befuddled on why it took me so long to come to this conclusion. Even last night there were several times during the evening that someone tried to drape a towel over my forearm. How silly of me to have taken the time since first coming to Attean Lake to hone my skills as an adventurous trailblazer, master kayaker and expert oarsman. Do they not realize that I am a human GPS unit capable of finding my way back to base from any location in the backwoods?

No, no they don't. They would cast all of those skills aside for a hot cup of joe and a pug with an empty bladder before they wake up.

Like any butler worth his salt, I rise before the sun and begin to plan the day. A quick walk to the lodge allows me to gather the daily meal plan which I am now accustomed to relaying to M'Lord and M'Lady once awakened from golden slumbers with the smell of hot coffee I have so carefully carried back to the cabin.

Once the royal family has been gently coaxed from their beds with my masterful rendition of a morning dove's coo, I must be careful not to let them dawdle to long for breakfast is only served for a short time. Making sure that they have been seated comfortably in the breakfast hall sometimes M'lady will grant me the good fortune of dining with them on a wonderful bounty of eggs, sausages, bacon, pancakes and delightful pastries. After filling their bellies the royals return to the cabin for the after breakfast nap. Once I see that they have all been delicately returned to their beds I am afforded some free time to kayak, pursue eastern European women or just relax and dream of what might have been.

If during the remaining days of my Great Maine Adventure IV you notice characters mysteriously vanishing from this blog, there can be one and only one reason why.

The butler did it.

Oh Massachusetts

Each year I begin the Great Maine Adventure with the highest of expectations, but somehow, someway, I seem to forget one constant obstacle that stands in the way of the perfect vacation. An obstacle so big that there is absolutely no way to avoid it. It creeps up on me like a rat hunting for a rotten piece of cheese. Much to my dismay, this monolith of aggravation is only 90 minutes from my home and swallows me up for almost four torturous hours at the beginning of my trip.

The state of Massachusetts has become my Waterloo.

After traveling on the beautifully serene Taconic State Parkway headbanging to Metallica, I am forced onto the four lanes to hell, The Massachusetts Turnpike. A road so horrible video of it was shown to prisoners at Guantanamo Bay after water boarding was deemed just not cruel enough.

I would gladly submit to water boarding if it meant I did not have to travel the 115 miles of pothole ridden concrete and black top the great state of Massachusetts likes to call a highway. But its not just the roadway that gives me the shingles it's the people who are driving (if we can call it that) on this highway of doom that makes me my eyes want to bleed.

I am wholly convinced that each and everyone of them have joined along with Wiley E. Coyote and received their drivers licenses from the ACME school of driving, which obviously prior to dropping anvils from the sky onto their heads did not cover such topics as;

Turn signals and how to use them

Cell phones and how not to use them

Alternate merging does help traffic flow

When and when not to flip someone off

Tailgating

This list goes on and on. Those of us who grew up in New Jersey and New York and cut our teeth on roads like Route 17, The Garden State Parkway and the New York State Thruway are fully cognizant of the rules of the road and diligently abide by them. We are kind and courteous drivers that respect each others space and always have a smile and a wave for our fellow travellers but yet I am continually astounded that the Massachusetts locals have yet to master the simple concept of actually looking at where you intend to point your 3000 pound 80 mile an hour, Boston Red Sox bumper stickered, New England Patriot banner waving missile of death!

It was also quite visible to the naked eye that all of those New England Patriot banner waving vehicles of destruction had under inflated tires. Coincidence.... I think not, although it is obvious that none of them have heeded the advice of one of their favorite sons and destroyed their cell phone after flagrantly violating the rules of the road.

Operating their vehicles in a manner that would get them convicted of gross negligence in any of the other 49 law abiding states is only half of the challenges they have. The ACME school of driving instructional guide “Driving for Dummies” should have spent more time training them on Article IV, Section III, Sub chapter I, entitled: “Wicked Issues With Paaaaaahkin' The Caaaaaah”. There are reasons that most establishments paint nice white lines in there parking lots. Simply put, you are to try and get your caaaaah in-between those two lines. Hence the term paaaaaahkin.

As you exit the state of Massachusetts you begin to see licence plates in New Hampshire that read “Live Free or Die”. They should read “Live Free or Die, if you can survive Massachusetts”.