I love the Jersey Shore in December.
Saturday meant getting the house ready for the winter. The drill is picking up the detritus left behind by friends, vacuuming madly, scrubbing the bathroom, shaking out rugs, cleaning out the refrigerator, alphabetizing the spice rack, and drinking the dregs from the not quite empty liquor bottles. Experience has taught me that you get better results if you do the alphabetizing before you polish off the last little bit of Jim Beam.
After the cleaning frenzy it was time for dinner at Lucky Bones in Cape May.
Emlen Physick Estate. Merry, merry!
However, before we found either of those attractions we were caught in the tail end of the West Cape May Christmas Parade. I didn't even know that West Cape May had a Christmas Parade. They do, and it's quite something. We missed the Mummers (oh my), marching bands, and the Lima Bean King and Queen (drat), but we did see lots of fire trucks swaddled in strands of Christmas lights. There was some sort of blockage (perhaps a coup attempt involving the Lima Bean King, a la Anwar Sadat) that kept the parade stationary for some time. That was just the excuse the fire trucks needed to let loose with every horn, whistle, bell and other honking device that they had on board. It was great!
I sat a few seats from a rode hard and put away wet woman in a Canadian tuxedo (matching jeans and denim jacket) who had a New Jersey trifecta going on: false eyelashes, a glass of red wine, and chewing gum. There was a steady parade of fashionable people in evening wear wandering in and out of the wedding reception in the banquet room next to the bar. After about the third person, I wanted to shout "Is Next Evening Wear!" as in the old Wendy's commercial.
The night's grand prize went to the woman who was dressed as Snooki's interpretation of Ali McGraw in Love Story--just as crocheted, but tighter and covering less overtanned flesh. I met her when she came into the men's room and made herself at home in the stall next to me, while I used the urinal. I was peeing with all the vigor that a 50-some year old guy can muster, when all of a sudden it sounded as if I were standing so close to Niagara Falls that I could have gone over in a barrel. I so did not know that women sound like that in the john! And then just as quickly as she came in, she was gone, without washing her hands. I shouldn't have been surprised at that, after all, she had been, as they say, "overserved". However, I am a tad disappointed that I didn't at least get a Yuletide fist pump.