Oh, well. Moving on.
Besides traveling with the Three Stooges (Charlie, Casey and Samantha, our cats), we also make our way around this fine country with Penny, Zippy, Genie and AB1 (our GPS, Honda Fit, cell phone and Forest River RV). And our standard rule of travel with Penny is to have her plot non-toll road/bridge courses. I mean, we’re not really in any big hurry … as you’ll recall, we’re retired.
However, today’s (Sunday’s) non-toll route looked like it was going to be extra long, so being the lazy retirees we are, we changed our rules for the first time and decided to pay the pittance of tolls we would incur taking the faster route. Well, as Julia Roberts said in “Pretty Woman,” “BIG MISTAKE!”
In just the first 60 miles, the tolls totaled $43. We were paying not only for towing a car, but also for the extra length of AB1. I guess we had something like 14 axles.
 |
| (What the toll clerk sees when we come through the gate) |
We quickly put a stop to that and reverted back to our old method of traveling the scenic byways of country roads, dirt lanes, and in some instances, across cow pastures. It took a bit longer, but in the end we made it with plenty of time to spare.
After our usual Monday recovery, we finally made it to the Boardwalk, the fabulous, historical New Jersey Boardwalk which, truth be told (and after all, why wouldn’t I?) was not actually boards … at least not the first 100 yards or so.They were cement.
Yes, toe catching and grabbing, hard–as-rock cement. But “cement-walk” just doesn’t have the lilting ring that all good New Jersey mobsters like to hear, so they call it the “Board-walk.” Still, it’s lovely. And most of the rest of it was, indeed, made of “boards.”
The Boardwalk’s first incarnation was 1870; it was built to keep pesky sand out of the hotel lobbies. That’s pretty much gone bye-bye now. It’s five-and-a-half miles long, although the first 1/4th of it is pretty much gone due to the mammoth Hurricane Sandy.
As I walked on the big Monopoly Board, I felt I struck figurative pay dirt when I found myself standing at the legendary intersection of Boardwalk and Park Place. “Now,” I wondered, “where do I go to ‘Pass Go’ and collect my $200?”
One of the draws to the shore that day was a championship sand sculpting event. It included incredible artists from all over the globe. I especially liked the Jersey devil sand carving while Diedre preferred a sandy woman hugging a teddy bear.
We passed the wharf with its carnival atmosphere. I then pretty much snacked my way down the Boardwalk while Diedre pretty much shopped her way down the same, although to be fair, she mostly spent at the 99-cents stores, even getting two amazingly lovely dresses for $12 ... total!
The Boardwalk was huge and lengthy. It even had a mall on it. In there, I discovered they had “The Sugar Store” directly across from a “Cinnabon.”Cruel!
All I could do as a recovering sugar-aholic was to keep my head down, walk fast, and repeat, “Yea though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no sugar.”
It seemed to work.
In the end, I can summarize our trek down the Boardwalk something like this:
T-shirt shop, bar, T-shirt shop, bar, ice cream, T-shirt shop, T-shirtshop, bar, bar, etc. 
Diedre’s favorite stop of the day was at the famous “Harry’s Oyster Bar & Seafood” with its 10 beers on tap. I preferred watching my honey as she was crowned “Miss America.” Was there ever any doubt?
At the end of the day, we had to concede that in conjunction with the beach, the Boardwalk really was quite scenic. As we trudged back to the car, we tried to make a quick “beer” stop at my new favorite bar, “The Duck Town Tavern.”
Their logo duck even had a Groucho cigar. But the place was full of Brazilian soccer fans. Apparently some kind of “world cup” tournament was going on, so we moved along … minded our own business ... there was nothing to see.
At the end of the day, we had apparently walked eight miles … and we were not yet at the car. There we were, a limping Diedre with a possibly cracked hip, and me with sore feet. That’s the best way to feel at the end of a most successful city-walk day.
Not content with just one “boardwalk” to tread upon, we made our way to Ocean City to see yet another. Yes, there’s more than just one boardwalk in the area. This family-oriented, alcohol-free boardwalk with the pay-beaches (Really!) was very nice, much cleaner than A.C. They even had a nice amusement park. The best line we heard that day was from two older women trudging down the boardwalk: “If you’re going to be annoying all day long, you might as well walk with somebody else.”Our evening was topped off in tribute to the phrase (adapted) “When in Jersey, do as the Jerseyites.”
We went to the movie “Jersey Boys.”
Friday, the Fourth of July, some 238 years after seceding from the tyranny of England with their “King George” and “Beatlemania,” we prepared to see some fireworks; and these were not just “any” fireworks. The ones scheduled to fired up in Atlantic City were supposed to be one of the five BIGGEST displays in the country! Now, WE were fired up!
Unfortunately …
… Hurricane Arthur had other ideas. All up and down the Jersey shore, celebrations were canceled in anticipation of the watery beast’s fury, so …
… we went to the Borgata Casino for a lovely buffet-all-you-care-to-eat dinner and then a bit of gambling where Diedre won $20 and I lost $22. You know, she may be beginning to question my value (beginning?) to the team.Saturday was to be our last day in the Atlantic City area, so we (“we” is really giving me all the best of it) decided to first go to a baseball card show on yet another boardwalk, this time at the Wildwood Convention Center. Wildwood is more honky-tonk and fun than the other shore burgs, at least as explained to me by yet another Carleton College alumni buddy who simply goes by the name “Strauss.” He said Wildwood has more tattooed and pierced people per capita than...well, almost anywhere. I have no idea how you measure something like that. It’s also the town where Chubby Checker first danced the twist, where "Rock Around the Clock" was first played in public, and where Bobby Rydell, Frankie Avalon and Fabian hung out as kids and annoyed the neighbors with their street corner singing. Rydell even had a hit song called "Wildwood Days." Wildwood was where the "American Bandstand" types hung out while their parents were in Atlantic City.
Strauss has two daughters: Ella, a recent Davidson College graduate, who will be starting her first job next week in Charlotte, a city we toured just a scant 25 days earlier; and Sylvia, a rising sophomore at the same college. He says his hearing is so bad, he’s the only dad in the world who, when his teenage daughters get in the car with him, THEY turn the radio down.
BA-DUM-BUMP!
Strauss is a most interesting guy. I’ll tell you more about him next week when we visit his year-around home outside of Philadelphia. I’ll tell you one tantalizing tidbit that will leave you thirsty for more Strauss tales:
On the basketball court, he once got reverse-dunked on by Will Smith.
Tune in next week for “Tales of Philadelphia and Greater Cherry Hill, NJ.”
Peace out.
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