The End of Them

             With summer sadly coming to an end, we wanted to do something special for Labor Day Weekend - technically the last beach weekend of the summer. Around the corner kids go back to school, people stop slacking off from work since switching to the 'off' button in late June, and stores start selling their Halloween goods. After a lot of 'on-again-off-again' back and forth, it was decided we would make the long drive to the very end of Long Island and send summer off in style.

              We wouldn't be alone; two of her friends were coming with us, but they were actually on the way there so it was rather easy to scoop them up. While they packed their stuff into the car, I saw a dead frog (or toad) was crushed in the middle of the street. I know certain night-creatures such as raccoons, deer, skunks, are frozen by bright car lights and eventually ran over, but I never heard of a frog ending up under a car tire that way too. With the frog's summer officially over, we took to the Long Island Expressway and made the tedious drive to Exit 68, which would lead us to Route 27 East, that goes all the way out to Montauk, passing every ritzy small town beforehand. The time from the Bronx to Exit 68 (including the friend pick-up) was a little under two hours, but once on Route 27, the time from there to where we needed to go was a solid two hours. Most of Route 27 is two lanes under normal circumstances, but naturally on Labor Day Weekend, when there would be a high volume of motorists, the geniuses in charge made sure to schedule road work that closed one lane for a long portion of the route. There's plenty of scenery to soften the blow such as farms, wineries, big houses, boutique shopping centers, but the traffic was bumper to bumper, slow, with only one lane operating; it was rather rough to say the least. Our bellies were growling with hunger, so once we all agreed we needed to eat something and would stop off at the first reasonably-priced looking option, the winner was a Columbian market that sold hot food to go. We grabbed three or four bags of different types of empanadas and one of her friends actually ordered just a piece of chicken, with no rice or side to go along with it, which left the Columbian lady behind the counter quite befuddled.

             The actual beach we were heading to was in Hither Hills State Park, that also offers camping grounds, but good luck getting reservations. With Montauk hotel, motel, and rooming prices through the roof, camping is a popular option, but camping veterans that are really into that type of stuff plan it out months and even years ahead. I'm not sure why whoever named the park couldn't find something else to call it that didn't sound like "Hitler". Ordinary visitors such as ourselves are permitted to enjoy the beach, even if we're not actual campers there, all we had to do is pay a parking fee of ten dollars. I saw the camping area with the RV trucks once we entered. The place is equipped with a full bathhouse for changing and showering, plus even a locker rental if you don't trust the other beach-goers. There's also a snack bar to grab some food or even a drink (including alcoholic beverages). Lifeguards are on duty during the day, and there seems to be a very relaxed attitude towards smoking on the beach as I saw several people puffing away without any objections from anyone else. The only thing that seems to be stressed is staying off the dunes, with quite a few of those signs posted.

             On my previous trips to Montauk beaches, I always found the waves to be tall and explosive, but for some reason on this occasion the water was mellow. There were some waves to ride in with, but it was not of the usual Montauk caliber. The water temperature was also bone-chilling cold, which shouldn't be as the water usually is near its warmest towards the end of the summer. Nevertheless, after consuming a few more empanadas, I took on the water without any issue. While swimming underneath my vision was darkened by the mucky and murky water color, which was also a rather bit odd. A cool breeze blew in off the water and all the signs were there that the summer was really coming to a close. I got changed once we were done with the beach and before leaving the state park, we made a little detour to the playground next to the parking lot. It's quite an impressive collection of childhood activities: swing sets, slides, rock climbing, poles, lumberjack racing, and sand to fall flat of your face on. We saw a clam bar stand on the side of the road just before we arrived at Hither Hills and planned on having a bite to eat there while heading back home. It's called Clam Bar, and you can either eat at the counter or sit at a table. Cars were parked all over the side off the road as the stand seemed to be very popular. I found it to be somewhat of a tourist trap in terms of the food quality in relation their prices, but it served our purposes well enough. I had a bowl of New England Clam Chowder for six dollars, a dozen littleneck clams for fourteen bucks, and washed it down with a sweat glass of lemonade that ran for two dollars. One of the people that came with us removed her mouth retainer before eating, and later on the waitress came over to clean up around the table as we were getting ready to leave, and picked up the retainer, not knowing it was wrapped in a napkin, and tossed it in the trash. Supposedly without a strong dental plan, those retainers run for a few thousand dollars. The waitress had somewhat of a 'so-what?' response to the mistake, but after some voice-raising she was more motivated to find the correct garbage can and tracked it down in a matter of a minute. We still left her a standard double-the-tax tip.

             The final stop on the West version of Route 27 would be the Duck Walk Vineyards at the edge of Wine Country. I first visited it about four years ago and and brought a rose (insert funky accent mark above the 'e') that is difficult to find anywhere else. They have a tasting room that was almost about to close for the day, so we needed to keep our missing-retainer mystery at the Clam Bar as short as possible. The sun was beginning to set when we got there, but there was still thirty-minutes left to sip some wine before their doors would close for the day. There is a wooden statue of a wine-maker upon entering. In his left hand was a bunch of grapes, with his right hand it seems as if we was about to flash the middle finger. They still had the rose (insert funky accent mark above the 'e') wine I liked the last time, called Windmill Blush, so I purchased a bottle for about ten bucks. We also took advantage of their wine-tasting options. They have one option in which you can select from a group of four wines for two dollars each, and then another option for about twelve dollars you can select more wines from an even longer list of options. There are also wine-related snacks available for purchase at the winery while visitors sip away such as salami, prosciutto, and cheese. For the smokers out there they even sell cigars to munch on while sampling a different variety of their presses. One can stay around the bar area where they pour the glasses (except I'm sure you can't smoke there) or there is an outside area with patio tables to lounge at with a peaceful view of the vineyards. The sun kept getting lower and lower by the minute as we all enjoyed our sampling. The sun was officially setting on the beach season, but it was going out gracefully. If there was a ever a perfect time to be at a winery, this was it. I couldn't help but to take out my camera and snap a few shots of the descending sun. When we were walking back to the car I positioned myself to take one final picture, and passing by one of the vineyard workers saw what I was doing and remarked something to the extent of, "Amazing, isn't it".

              He kept walking without my response as he knew there would be no disagreement....

The Only Idiot Still Parked There

             Whereas once I considered the Fourth of July holiday to be better than Christmas for fact I would enjoy lighting off fireworks to blow stuff up, in latter years I've found it to be more of a noisy nuisance I would prefer to be without. Not wanting to be in the neighborhood to listen to continuous pops and bangs all day, I pondered the thought of a one-day getaway to escape the headache. A couple of summers ago I did the same thing on July 4th and went out to Red Bank, New Jersey. It is a quiet town located before the shore points of the Jersey coastline. The item that surprised me on that day was that the roads and highways getting there were virtually empty on such a major summer holiday. Not wanting any traffic this year as well, I picked Jersey again for the mini-vacation, but this time the more lively area of Seaside Heights. In the nature of waiting till the last minute to finalize my decision, I actually didn't book the hotel room until the morning of July 4th.

             Just as it had been a few years ago on the Fourth of July, the highways were light in traffic, starting off with the Cross Bronx, the New Jersey Turnpike, and finally the Garden State Parkway. It must be due to the fact that people with July 4th plans must already be wherever they're going to be at by July 3rd. I had been to Seaside Heights before not too long ago during the summer. It wasn't July 4th, just a regular Saturday, but the traffic was torture the entire way and leaving at 12:00pm from the Bronx, I didn't get there until about 4pm. This time around, I also left about 12:00pm, but reached the a little before 3:00pm. There wasn't one lick of traffic or cars slowing down whatsoever; it had to have been a new world record. I actually could've gotten to the hotel sooner, except I was lost after getting off the ramp because there aren't many normal street signs to look at. Instead of the normal street corner sign that is usually high up on a pole and colored in green or blue, in Seaside Heights most of the street labeling is done on white wooden pikes that stick out of the ground. I actually I to pull up to an ambulance dispatch garage to ask for directions and I was getting a little nervous when a driver mentioned there was only one hotel on the street I was looking for, and it wasn't the Travelodge I booked online. I was able to follow there directions and it turns out I was only about seven blocks off, but it turns out the hotel used to be called The Village Inn, but it was recently bought out by the Travelodge franchise, that I never heard of before. Parking in Seaside Heights is very tough, and since there were no free spots at the hotel left, I had to used a pay municipal machine and park the car around the corner.

             My room was located up on the third floor which gave a good view of the bridge which leads cars back towards the Garden State Parkway. Most Jersey shore motels and hotels are on the dumpy side, unless you spend top dollar, but my room was manageable. After the horror of the awful Motel 6 room I had a few weeks ago in Washington, DC, this one was the Waldoff Astoria. It would've been nice to have a latch to chain the door to for extra security, but there was a bolt, and they provided way more towels than I really needed which were folded very neatly. After I was settled in, I headed for the one thing I mainly had on my mind during the sunny drive down, that was the beach. The hotel was located four long blocks from the boardwalk and beach area, so it took about ten minutes to get there. Admission to the beach is five dollars and your given a wrist band which allows you to re-enter throughout the day in case you want to venture on the boardwalk for a healthy meal like salt water taffy, a philly cheesesteak, or an unnecessarily large slice of pizza. If you think you can use your wrist band to forgo paying the next day, you can't, they change up the color/style to something else each day. The beach was very crowded in the sand as well as in the water. Even seagulls were getting into the act by dive-bombing onto the waves to catch fish. The water didn't look as rough as it's Atlantic Ocean counterpart Jones Beach, in Long Island, New York, I encountered about a week ago. When I got into the water it was one of those rare moments when the temperature was just perfect, which is quite difficult for chilly Northeast waters. Plus, with the water not being as rough, it was easier to swim out more and not worry about getting washed out to sea like would probably have happened at Jones Beach that day. It was a little annoying to not be able to swim freely with a million other swimmers around, but the warm water was good enough to just be in it.

             By 5:00pm, quite rudely the lifeguards shut it down for the day and even got on a bullhorn and told people to get up and leave the beach. As hoards of beachgoers left, the seagulls swooped in to feast on the potato chips and pizza crusts that stayed behind. Naturally, with all the birds swarming around one managed to aim one of its droppings onto my beach blanket that I had to wash off in the hotel room. Within fifteen minutes the beach was emptied out and I found myself on the boardwalk. Just about every other stand is a 3 Brothers from Italy Pizza franchise, and since I didn't have a lunch yet, I had their hot sausage with peppers and onions hero with a gigantic cup of tangy lemonade to feast on. Even with the big drink, I was still thirsty afterwards and stopped by a Kohr's stand for one of their original orangeade drinks. There is a sky ride which elevates over the boardwalk and takes you from one end to the other, and at only five dollars for a round trip, it seemed like a bargain, so I purchased the two-way ticket (its three dollars for one-way only). Turns out going solo on this thing isn't a great idea. With me leaning on one side in a seat by myself, this thing started shaking and I had the feeling I was about to drop at any second. It doesn't go extremely high up and you're mostly over the sand, but there's definitely the opportunity for a broken leg and getting knocked out cold. My only chance was to remain absolutely still so as I wouldn't cause the seat to shake any further. Getting to the other end of the boardwalk was taking forever and I couldn't wait for this ride of terror to end. I think I realized I really hate heights now and breathed a deep sigh of relief once I was off. I had the other part of the ticket for a ride back, but in no way was I getting back onto that thing, a nice walk was fine with me.

            Once I got back to my hotel room to shower off from the beach and clean the bird dropping on my beach blanket, I recalled my first Seaside Heights visit and the best veal parmigiana I ever had in my life. This, along with the beach, was another reason I chose Seaside Heights for this day. The restaurant had the word "spaghetti" somewhere in the name, and I kind of had an idea where it was located, but wasn't completely sure. After getting dressed and heading out, I found a block that looked semi-familiar of where the place was located, and in no less than two blocks, there it was on the corner of Boulevard and Blaine Ave., On Top of Spaghetti. It was quite busy and I was fearful they wouldn't want to sit just a party of one, but there was a small table inside they put me at. The restaurant has homemade family-style Italian dishes and the inside is decorated like some old Italian grandmother's house. I let the waitress waste her breath by telling me their specials of the day while the whole time I had my mind on one thing, the veal parmigiana. For an appetizer I ordered up some fried mozzarella which came out in two patties and the sauce on it was absolutely wonderful. My meal came with a salad which the waitress didn't ask me about, otherwise I would've waived it off, but since she put it in front of me I left bad just having her come back and see it wasn't touched. The trick with salads is that with the thin leaves, you can pile one half of the salad onto the other half, leave one leaf on the vacated side so it doesn't look too perfect, and you can trick your server into thinking you actually ate some of it. She completely brought it because instead of asking something confrontational like, "You didn't want it?", she asked, "Can I take this away now?".

             A few minutes after the unwanted trick salad was removed from my table, they brought out the veal parmigiana with the spaghetti in the same dish, covered in tomato sauce and hot melted cheese. The smell was the same as it was a couple of years ago, and happily the taste was still there too. I had some regrets that the fried mozzarella, plus the sausage hero a few hours earlier, might've hindered my ability to finish my plate, but it turned out I finished it all with ease. I still believe not a better veal parmigiana can be located anywhere else but at On Top of Spaghetti. The waitress came over and asked me if I would be interested in dessert. I had two options; I could have dessert there, or, get something on the boardwalk later that night when I would be there for the 9:30pm fireworks show. Knowing boardwalk snacks offer the unhealthiest of the unhealthiest temptations such as funnel cakes, zeppoles, taffy, fudge, and cotton candy, I felt the restaurant dessert would at least be more sensible and keep my stomach away from those other deadly options. What I had then was a glass of cut strawberries with cannoli filling and topped off with whipped cream and a piece of cannoli shell. In no time I was done with my dessert and back up onto the boardwalk where crowds were gathering for the fireworks display. Although I was escaping fireworks for the day, this was going to be colorful stuff bursting into the air over the waters and not bottle-rockets setting off ten different car alarms at once. I wasted some time by checking out the Fun Town Amusement Park located on a pier and all the different death-defying ride I wouldn't even fathom trying out. There was a red harvest moon rising from the sea level, for a moment I though it was Mars. Other people where joking that it was a meteor heading towards Earth. The fireworks show started about on time and it was a good ten minute onslaught of flowers, mortars, and sparklers launched from the beach and shot over the water. At times it seemed like I was in the middle of a war the way the pounding was non-stop. The crowd was impressed and gave a large applause at the end.

             The crowd dispersed after that, but there were still tons of people on the boardwalk that it felt as dense as walking through Times Square. I also walked through some of the side streets and came upon one interesting setting when there was what sounded like a young woman crying in a dark hotel parking garage. I couldn't see her, but some guy was going towards her to console it appeared. Then at the nearby corner a small crowd had gathered and there was the unsettling feeling like a fight just occurred a few minutes previously by the way people were talking. Also, for some reason the corner smelt like vomit, as a passing by lady pointed out. I never found out what happened, but there was other chaos going around. Police were napping teenagers left and right trying to conceal alcohol in water and Gatorade bottles. There were at least two darkly tanned middle-aged women taken into police custody for being too drunk to stand straight. Another lady tripped at a street corner and needed an ambulance to come pick her up. It was certainly a wonderful night at the Jersey shore. I saw lightning bolts in the air and felt some drizzle come down, so I figured this was a good time to return to the hotel. Hundreds and hundreds of cars were lined up forever trying to flee Seaside Heights and I was happy I was staying the night and not having to sit through those tedious hours of horn-honking. The only downside of the night was the skies completely opened before I was halfway back and by the time I reached my room, my clothes were drenched and it looked like I just swam in the ocean. To make matters worse, I had to go out again to put more money in the machine since its for 24-hour parking. The water-soaked bills kept getting rejected by the machine as the rain poured down, and it wasn't until I flipped the bills over to a dryer side that the machine finally accepted them.

            Originally I was going to leave in the morning after checking out and hoped to be back in New York by midday, but after experiencing how nice the beach water was, I needed to stay around longer for another dip. Once I was done with the hotel, I had the option of getting into the car to look for a parking space more conveniently closer to the beach. Then I wondered, what if there are no good spots there, then I would be wasting time and just end up back where I was. For that reason, I decided to put more money in the machine and just left the car where it had been standing. I set out for breakfast and walked towards the boardwalk area to find a place. Of course, just about every parking space near the beach was open if I had gotten into my car and moved it, but I didn't mind the long walks back and forth. I came upon an establishment called Just Breakfast, and they do.......just breakfast, closing at 1pm. The inside is fixed up with wooden booths and old pictures and movie posters along the wall. I asked for a belgian waffle with hot blueberry preserve, and with expecting alot since the place seemed to be a breakfast specialist, the food was quite mediocre. If that wasn't bad enough, the waitress never asked me if I wanted a refill on my coffee, which is like a waitressing cardinal sin. I was seated at a large booth by myself (its not very big inside), and when a large group came in to be seated, they gave me the bum's rush to get me out of there so they could use my booth for the group. I could see if I got a good waffle out of it, but it tasted no better than an Eggo's, so the whole experience was rotten. With coffee goals unfulfilled, I had to resort to a Dunkin Donuts stand on the boardwalk for a medium iced coffee. The hit MTV show "Jersey Shore" was filmed in that area and I would've like to have seen the infamous house they used, but there just wasn't time for that.

             Another five dollars was invested after a long walk back to the car to get my beach stuff so I could have another beach sampling before heading back to New York. There was another breakfast place around called Jimmy's Breakfast that had my name all over it and they probably treat you like a human being, unlike Just Breakfast, that I regretted not seeing before. Since it was earlier in the day (about 11:00am) compared to when I was there the afternoon before, the water wasn't fully warmed up by a whole day worth of hot sun, so it was chillier this time around, but still pleasant. The good news was that this time around there weren't as many seagulls around to leave a present on my blanket. Another good thing was that there weren't nearly as many other swimmers around in the water, so I was able to move around more without worrying about bumping into someone. I took about three to four trips into the water, took in some sun, collected sea shells near the coastline, and was ready to head back home. As I was walking towards my car I noticed that there were still open spots around the blocks near the beach and I was about the only idiot who had my car parked as far as I had it. I first opened my car door to remove the parking receipt from my dashboard, and the sun was so powerful that it actually burnt the white paper and turned it brown. Furthermore, when I sat down to get myself organized before leaving, I felt a slight itch on my leg. When I looked down I noticed a small green bug had jumped on me. It looked like a grasshopper or a cricket, but when I saw the two front legs standing up in a kung-fu position, I realized it was a baby praying mantis. I hadn't seen one out in the wild like that for many years. I think its illegal to kill them because they're so rare these days, so not wanting to face a New Jersey courtroom on murder charges, I whisked it off my leg and it eventually went outside the car.

               I was hoping it wasn't standing under my tire by the time I drove off, but at least there was only one car there it had to worry about dodging.....