Before you stands a new woman! I finally got a good night’s sleep.
I can’t believe I am about to wax rhapsodic about a Best Western and a truck stop, but I am. (Shut up JT)
I have slept in some monumentally shitty beds and eaten some extremely overpriced food in the last week so maybe I have a drastically lowered bar, but I don’t think so.
After narrowly avoiding being attacked by Great White sharks in Cape Cod, we made our way to Maine, landing in Bangor around 8:30.
It’s funny how this trip has changed my relationship to driving.
Boulderites are spoiled by how close everything is. A 30 minute drive is what stands between me and Denver’s lively art, music and food culture, not to mention friends. It’s stupid.
Now we wake up and load into the car for an eight-hour drive without even flinching.
Alana, Stefé, Nikki, we are coming to see you when we get back!
Because of the glacially slow wi-fi at a truck stop just over the Maine border, I settled for the first motel deal Hotwire offered me, simply because I was too impatient to wait for more pages to load.
For $100 we got a great room in the White House Best Western.
Obama was there because we were staying at the White House Best Western. Get it?
Maybe it is testament to how meager the amenities have been, but this place rocked my world.
It had a hot tub, pool, really comfortable beds that didn’t have suspicious odors, an incredible included continental breakfast and the nicest woman who worked there gave me two free tickets for a whale watching cruise that she hadn’t gotten around to using. They would be $55 each if we paid for them. Score! (Thank you Carolyn!)
I have a soft spot for truck stops because my father and I used to road trip to Speed Week at the Bonneville Salt Flats every year and we would always stop at the Husky for breakfast on the way. I had a good feeling about this place.
The food was good and cheap and the kids meal that came with vegetables (thank you thank you thank you). We’ve been paying out the wazoo for meals and decent prices are tremendously palliative.
But the pie. Oh the pie.
I know pie, I have dedicated years of my life to perfecting pie.
I have the world’s most anal retentive Cook’s Illustrated recipe for blueberry pie, but I don’t think I could do better than the blueberry pie at Dysart’s.
We liked the pie so much, we got some whole pies as a host gift for our next stop.
I met Chris almost 20 years ago, he was an friend of my ex-husband. My ex very aptly characterized him as “the nicest person in the world” and he was right.
20 years later he has founded an arts foundation with his husband, is an accomplished pianist and photographer. And we are still causing trouble at black tie competitive karaoke events.
He and his husband have a place in Acadia National Park and he probably didn’t think I would take him up on his offer to stay in his guest cottage, what with Acadia being a million miles away.
Sensing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity coupled with a wedding conveniently on the east coast, I jumped all over his offer. So that’s where we’re going.
I hope they like pie.