So we are on the road again. Hub and I find ourselves amidst commuters and vacationers ahead of us on heavily traveled roads, in front of us at Starbucks, the restroom, tollbooths and traffic lights. In our cocoon of a home and town we maintain a degree of isolation from the summer madness, rarely driving to crowded malls or supermarkets or tourist attractions. Our chosen mode of transportation is bicycle or our feet.
We left home mid-afternoon, planning to stop along the way at a motel and finish our trek to northern Vermont the following day.
We exited the New York Thruway at Kingston in search of dinner and a comfortable bed. I was impressed by a downtown lined with appealing eating establishments, retail stores, including an independent bookstore, an LGBTQ community center, and a variety of businesses from yoga and fitness studios to law offices.
Opening the door to a tavern a couple exiting at the same time told us, ”You don’t want to go in. The kitchen is closed tonight.”
Hub asked, “Any suggestions where we can go? Never been here before.”
The man thought a moment and responded, “Around the corner are a couple of places with great food…one has cauliflower wings, excellent…”
I didn’t need to hear more.
We found the restaurant, a bit pricier than we would have liked but we enjoyed delicious food on an outdoor deck furnished with a lively bar and huge screen showing movies (To Catch a Thief). Hub researched motels while waiting for our food and eventually said, “We must be in a resort area. Cheapest place I can find is $165. Maybe we should continue driving after dinner.”
Which is exactly what we did.
Once again we headed north on the Thruway. A few minutes later I realized my long-sleeve shirt remained on the back of my chair on the restaurant’s deck. I called the restaurant – we weren’t going to turn around – and the shirt will be waiting for me when, hopefully, I remember to stop by and retrieve it on the way home this weekend.
Hub drove and I searched for a motel room, my go-to ap Yelp.
One town within reasonable driving distance seemed promising, listing several places. I touched the screen on the most highly rated to read the reviews. The first one began, “This was the first nudity place I ever visited…” The website describes the place as a “clothing optional nudist resort”. Reading further I discover it is a campground. No tent or RV? You can buy a single day pass, or a season day pass.
Uh oh. I don’t think so. I don’t want strangers gazing at my nude body, and I certainly do not want to look at other nude bodies hanging around the pool, riding bikes, playing volleyball and walking along the nature trails (viewed in pictures of peoples’ backs on the website). I cannot afford all the bug spray and suntan lotion needed to lather my nude body. Where do people put their cash in case he or she wants to buy a drink or more bug spray?
Luckily a moderately priced chain motel was right off the next exit. By the time we arrived at the motel it was dark, we were tired, but most important the bed, adorned with several pillows, felt comfy.
We collapsed into sleep heaven.
One issue unresolved: Why is traveling, sitting and not moving the body, so exhausting?