We drive to Full Moon for breakfast, where it will be a 20 minute wait for a party of 5. I notice that the exact same overpriced stained glass panels still hang in the window – albeit with slashed prices.
There is a very large and very loud group of about 12 people in the little eatery which is drowning out everyone in the place. I peek over and see money on the table - a sign that they are leaving soon. This will save me the trouble of flinging forks in their general direction to shut them up.
After breakfast, we head to the huge outdoor flea market. Even though it's very hot outside, I set my brain to focus on finding two things: Art Deco antiques and Art Deco books.
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The closest thing I find is an overpriced, $295 Art Deco lamp with the original glass panel replaced by an unconvincing, undersized and ill-fitting fake.
It figures that I would take an interest in an art movement that is so overpriced and rare. Had my interest been in old, dirty furniture, boring books, door knobs, or random chandelier pieces I'd have made a killing.
Larry peels out of the gravel parking lot, much to the amusement of David, Greg and Alan.
Greg and Alan stay at the hotel while we go outlet shopping with David. Several of the stores are closed, including Geoffrey Beene, which was one of just a few good stores we'd preferred.
At Van Heusen, I’m frustrated by their lack of sizes in fitted white dress shirts. There is only one on the shelf, but I'd like to pick up at least three or four of them.
An overly helpful clerk seizes on my desperation when I ask her if they have any more shirts in the back of the store. She comes back to me empty handed, but says, "I know. These are very popular shirts, but we don't carry too many," she says.
I really want to point out the stupidity in her statement. If you know these are hot sellers, then you should order more, stupid!
The saleswoman tries to help by offering to special order these fitted business dress shirts for me, telling me that I will still get the sale price and that they'll just ship them to me for six dollars.
Larry overhears this and looks at me like I'm crazy. I'm considering this option, but then I realize that this would be a mistake. Two years ago, they asked us for our email addresses to they could send us coupons. It was six months before we got anything from them, so just imagine how long it will take to get these shirts.
I hunt the racks for dress pants. I ignore the pleated pants and scowl at the hideous microfiber pants. This furthers my shopping depression.
I know that, had we driven in on Friday, we'd have beat the crowds and had plenty to choose from. I decide against mentioning this to Larry, because I really don’t want to have to take the bus back to NYC.
On the way to the cashier, I see another shirt, in my size, randomly sitting on a pile of ties. I snatch it up.
When the saleswoman sees me checking out, she races over to take my order for those special order shirts that I'm not getting. Even the cashier is involved now.
"So will you be ordering these to be shipped to you?"
"No, I've changed my mind."
The suddenly friendly saleswoman turns off the charm and walks away. It's as if I just told her that she's not my type.
At IZOD, Larry picks out a pair of shorts for himself. I browse the racks looking for a second pair for myself. It's Larry's lucky day, as these are apparently the last pair of size 34 shorts in the entire store. I refuse to even consider a disgusting 36.
We enter Brooks Brothers and I turn my shopping radar off. I know that even sale items are expensive here. Even David finds it expensive, and he's the only one who can actually afford it.
At Bass Shoes, I've noticed a trend: their shoes are getting uglier.
I take David across the street to Famous Footwear, while Larry goes back to buy a t-shirt that he saw earlier. I shop in reverse by scanning the stacks of boxes by size, then determining whether or not I like what's in them. Why risk falling in love with a pair of Nikes only to see that your size is long gone?
We're back at the hotel again, getting ready to head out to the pool for their free BBQ. We find a few lounge chairs and hang out, enjoying the sunny weather.
There are some people from Long Island here that we know, as well as a know-it-all lesbian couple that we see once a year at Mike and Bob's holiday party. Larry re-re-re-introduces me to them since they act as though they've never met me. It's okay, because I don't remember the names of these two truck drivers.
I smell something disgusting, yet familiar. Rick and Ron are back, chain smoking cigars and wearing straw cowboy hats in one of the gazebos.
I spot a familiar face (and body). It's that totally anorexic Asian guy from a few years back. I remember watching him by the pool. He was always alone. It wasn't because of his emaciated frame, but his bizarre behavior. He moves his head around like a pigeon, making short and abrupt turns from side to side, up and down, sometimes jutting his chin out. It as if he's trying to catch someone in the act of staring at him - or maybe he's just totally nuts. If anyone could use a cheeseburger right now, it's him.
We hear a ruckus and look up. Apparently, the cleaning ladies are having some kind of fight. It's very entertaining because it looks like one of them is getting chased with a cart. I just hope they clean our hotel room.
4:30 - Before you can say "lighter fluid" the pool's bar is abandoned in favor of the free BBQ. We do battle with a short Indian man who insists on going the wrong way on line, practically shoving us into the pool so he can put ketchup on his burger.
My First Course: One hot dog, one cheese burger.
My Second Course: Pasta salad, watermelon.
My Third Course: (considered, aborted)
The sky blackens and I hope that it rains, because we're sitting under one of four tents for the entire area. I think I'd be entertained watching everyone scatter for their rooms, gathering up towels, bags, Blackberries and iPods.
It doesn't rain, but it gets chilly, so we all venture out to the Raven for cocktails.
The sky continues to darken and since we are under the covered porch, I dare it to rain now. I want it to rain hard, the way it did two years ago. Back then, we all ran into the cabana by the pool and continued to drink, while the wind blew the DJ tent into the pool.
The covered porch at the Raven is surrounded by garage doors with glass panels. When the weather becomes cold or rainy, the doors are closed, creating a sort of cozy green house.
It begins to rain and the doors close. First on the opposite side of the room, and then on the side to our right. I am sitting on the bench with my back to the garage door and my arm over the backrest. Larry yells for me to move my arm as the garage door threatens to
There are three urinals. Two of normal height, and one that is so low, it might as well be for dogs. There is a drunk standing at the urinals now, so I head for a stall. As another man (Guy #2) comes in, the drunk decides to move to the urinal next to him, goofy grin on his face.
"Oh, so now you want that one?" asks Guy #2.
I'm glad I'm not drinking anything stronger than beer tonight.
I'm mesmerized by the powerful Dyson hand dryer that they've installed. I want to wash my hands again just so I can dry them.
Okay, maybe I am a little tipsy.
We leave the Raven and head out to eat. Even though it’s 10:21, we try to find a restaurant that is still open, hoping to avoid the crappy, 24-hour Eagle Diner.
We stop at a hotel that David swears has a restaurant. Upon entering, it’s obvious that all they have is a bar.
Larry drives off and takes a wrong turn. Suddenly, the road is dark and foggy. My mind goes to the dark side and envisions us driving into a canal like Jessica Savitch
When faced with uncertainty, I tend to panic. "Should I take out the navigation device?" I ask Larry.
As the device boots up, I look out the window and see that we are back in town again. Sometimes I wonder if Larry’s playing tricks on me.
Sadly, we pull into the mostly empty lot at the Eagle Diner. This is apparently the only place to eat after 10:00 on a Sunday night in New Hope. Larry had warned that the food is horrible, but I chose to be oblivious about it - until tonight.
David orders a tuna sandwich and gets an open face tuna sandwich with cheese on top. The cheese is very slightly melted and has what looks like dew on it. Gross.
Greg makes the fatal mistake of ordering french onion soup.
The young waiter tells us that he has never tried french onion soup, so upon serving it, he warns that it is extremely hot and says "it looks okay - I guess." This guy shouldn't venture into sales.
Greg grimaces as he eats the soup. "This is disgusting," he says. I have to agree. It looks watery and weak - like dirty dish water. He complains that the cheese has the consistency of bubble gum.
I pray that my chicken wrap doesn't kill me as I bite into it. Larry hates his chicken salad.
I wonder if going back to the hotel and ordering room service would be worth the expense.
Since all of us are tired, we agree that we're not going to be drinking once we get back to the Nevermore Hotel. I really want to see how the rumored karaoke has killed business. When we arrive, I am delighted to see that the karaoke ended early. We bump into everyone we know at the bar. They invite us to stay and drink, but we tell them that we're planning on getting up early tomorrow to beat the traffic back to New York Citaaay.