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Monday, May 29, 2006
Assorted Vacation Ramblings
Yes, I'm back from the wilds of western Massachusetts, and happy to be so. It was a refreshing interlude, not to mention expensive; we burned quite a lot of gasoline, ate much better than we'd intended, and patronized various art, photography, and glass galleries to a considerable total. However, I find this evening that the world is still here, still spinning somewhat erratically, and presumably still in need of a few rhetorical whacks upside the head.
But that can wait for tomorrow. I still feel too good.
1. Shocking Them.
Apparently it's no longer expected of tourists that they'll behave as ladies and gentlemen. That was all it took for us to raise eyebrows at various points in our ramblings. But beyond that, it appears that it's no longer "the done thing" to treat tourists with courtesy, even in areas utterly, hopelessly dependent on tourist expenditures for their survival.
I shan't go into details. Suffice it to say that we were on the receiving end of a considerable amount of unexpected rudeness, both casual and deliberate, at several points. It came from local tradesmen and their hired help, and from incidental contact with passers-by. (Passing a Massachusetts driver appears to be the greatest affront one can deal him, if we go by their reactions.) On a few occasions it took determination to keep it from spoiling our mood.
One particular incident stands out from the rest: a hotel clerk who opined that the materials distributed by the hotel, concerning local attractions and institutions, need not be accurate. One such inaccuracy made us drive twenty miles out of our way; another caused me to miss Mass on Sunday. He stated, quite correctly, that the hotel had no obligation to provide its guests with such information at all. When I replied that at the least the hotel could refrain from providing misinformation, his response was a sneer and a shrug.
Tempora mutantur.
2. A Promise Broken.
When we set out, I resolved to leave the digital world behind for the weekend, but I found that I couldn't. For one thing, the hotel advertised free wireless connectivity. For another, I do have a novel to finish, and for the first time in quite a while I expected to have time to work on it. So I broke down -- mea maxima culpa -- and bought another laptop computer.
On my last foray into the laptop wilds, I allowed a salesman to talk me into trying a Hewlett-Packard model that, quite frankly, should have been banned by law. That machine was returned to its retailer after two different instances of it evinced incurable overheating problems. There was a wrestling match over the refund, as the retailer wanted to charge me a 15% restocking fee, the very mention of which got me thinking about night camouflage, full-auto weapons, and improvised explosive devices. But ultimately, all ended well, though I did have to eat the cost of the case I'd purchased for it.
This time, I bought a modest Sony VAIO unit. It appears to be stable, and it served me well over the weekend. (It also served the C.S.O. well, when she learned that she could retrieve her E-mail over the Web.) I have one quarrel with it: the two USB ports are too closely set to allow me to use my travel-mouse and my flash ROM concurrently. Well, nothing is perfect. But so far, so good.
What's that? Of course I bought the extended warranty! I'm an engineer, not an idiot.
3. It's A Dog's Life.
I'm an animal lover. I always have been. Nothing on Earth has more appeal for me than a furry quadruped. (Don't tell the C.S.O.) So it's commonplace for me to befriend the dogs and cats I encounter no matter where I am.
However, the Fortress of Crankitude's two dogs-in-residence, Keiko:
...and Sable:
...are suspicious of such activities. The scent of cat, ferret, hamster or guinea pig merely raises their ears for a few seconds, but when they can smell another dog on me, it makes them lastingly unhappy quite reliably. Their reactions are seldom predictable, and seldom pleasant.
This weekend I encountered only one dog whose owner was at all accommodating. The dog was a hairless Chihuahua, and far friendlier than the breed's reputation. The owner was a young woman, and very cordial indeed. We spent a pleasant few minutes talking about dogs as I made friends with her pup. It was only afterward that I realized I'd doomed myself to a third-degree going-over at home.
Yes, the scent lasts that long. You can't shower or launder it off, either.
Upon the instant I opened our front door, Keiko and Sable were all over me. They wouldn't let me do anything until they'd examined me from stem to stern. When I finally got the chance to sit down after unloading the car, both of them jumped onto the couch and planted themselves in my lap.
Dogs smile. They also frown. Until today, I didn't know they could glare or sneer.
I really must unlearn this habit of petting other people's animals.
4. Qualifications.
For some time, the C.S.O. and I have been discussing what attributes indicate a tourist area. There are many characteristics that one might find in a tourist-oriented town, but few that appear to apply to all of them. Much to my surprise, they don't all have either attractive water towers or regionally significant tubular foods. But there are two markers they all share:
- Candles,
- Fudge.
A tourist town is one where one can buy scented candles and fresh fudge (i.e., not pre-packaged vending machine fudge) from one or more of the retailers on the town's main commercial street. I have found this to apply to dozens of tourist towns on the Eastern Seaboard, from northern Maine all the way to Miami, Florida. Moreover, it appears to be obligatory for a tourist to buy at least one candle, and at least a quarter pound of fudge, before leaving the environs.
This has given us pause. On the just completed jaunt, the C.S.O. bought candles aplenty -- Yankee Candle Corp. is very well represented in the Berkshires -- but we omitted to buy fudge. It was an oversight; we'd meant to buy some, but it slipped our minds until we disembarked at the Fortress today, at which point it was impossible to rectify our error.
The guns have been cleaned and oiled, and the sight lines are all clear. I have the first watch. They might come at any moment, and from any direction. Keep an eye on the newspapers.
Comments
I shan’t go into details.
Even if we say “please”?
Posted by TJIC on 05/29/2006 at 08:18 PMitem 3: LOL. Glare or sneer? Sneer? How about glower? I’ll buy that.
Posted by Pascal Fervor on 05/30/2006 at 12:07 AMOne must also, at some point, buy the quaint “locally made” cedar boxes, (the ones with the “made in China” decal still affixed to the obverse) in which to store, erm,
well, I can’t imagine what you would put in those things. Wrestling jackets for gerbils, I suppose.
Posted by og on 05/30/2006 at 08:07 AMThe guns have been cleaned and oiled, and the sight lines are all clear. I have the first watch. They might come at any moment, and from any direction. Keep an eye on the newspapers.
Of course you realize you’re doomed. You can only hope to take as many of them with you as possible.
I salute you, good friend. I’d offer to avenge you, but ... c’mon. You failed to buy fudge!
Posted by McGehee on 05/30/2006 at 12:14 PMI tend to think taht you should give out the names of places so the rest of us, should the opportunity come up, could decline to favor the places with our money.
Posted by on 05/30/2006 at 02:33 PM1) Tempora mutantur, nos et non mutamur in illis?
Posted by JoeCF on 05/30/2006 at 08:51 PM
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