20 hours on the Cape
Resort: noun
a place to which people frequently or generally go for relaxation or pleasure, especially one providing rest and recreation facilities for vacationers.
We arrived mid-afternoon Friday. Resort after resort line the Main Street of Hyannis. Resorts that I’m sure were super fancy in the 70’s with their chaise lounges flanking the small outdoor pools. Some are motel-ish, some hotel-ish and some are abandoned and the pools are filled with weeds instead of water. We chose our accommodations based on its proximity to our music destination, The Melody Tent. This resort, based on those long ago standards, was elaborate. There is a salon. You know it’s fancy if there’s a salon. And the restaurant overlooked the pool. I could picture parents in summer casual loungewear or bathing suits and cover-ups, cigarette in one hand, drink in the other, watching their littles splash and squeal. I’m guessing friends were made, cards were played, ice cream sundaes enjoyed. Resort vacation. Pleasant, easy going days of summer.
Current day, the restaurant menu has bits of everything- egg rolls to filet of sole almondine to churro fries with chocolate bourbon sauce. Hodge podge menus always make me nervous. Our neighboring table is a grandma tending to two little boys. One is a chatterbox. His many observations and lengthy commentary are adorable. The other is too young for the booster seat he was plopped into and he is folding sideways. He’s not quite a sitter yet. Mom parked them there. Got grandma a glass of white wine and a plate of buttered noodles for the chatterbox and exited. Chatterbox was not very interested in his noodles. There were waiters to chat with and swimmers to watch. Grandma was, however, interested in her wine. She ordered a second glass. The waitstaff was overdressed for the place and was professionally pleasant. The food was… as expected.
America at the Melody Tent was hot. Like temperature hot. Too many degrees and too many bodies hot. I was fine until I wasn’t. I knew I needed air. Air that had movement or space to it. I stood to leave our row. The gentleman at one end could not stand easily, so we reversed. The other end of the row had a similar situation. We politely waited. And my blood pressure dropped. And I had the sense of my legs trying to carry me outdoors, my hands reaching, searching for stability. I knew I was going to face plant if I didn’t sit down. Luckily, I made it to a bench. Well, I think it was a bench. And I think I had help. 2 paramedics were there in seconds. And then Chris. Thank God he followed me. Air and water were all I needed. My thoughts became clear and my words again became coherent. We did not venture back into the hot-box and instead chose to remain outside- where the air moved and had space to it. America shared our favorites, as expected.
We returned to our humble resort room across the street, emptied the dehumidifier, showered off the day and crashed hard.
My wish for Saturday morning was simple- to find and sip good coffee while walking on the beach. Afterwards, we sought breakfast and noticed the very busy mini golf courses that colorfully dotted Main Street. How many does one town need? Apparently Cape Cod resort towns need several. We found decent eats at one of seemingly hundreds of breakfast places. The Daily Paper hasn’t changed anything ever since ever- and unlike the resorts, it shouldn’t. Good, fast, old school, diner eggs and waffles were exactly as expected. 20 hours. The end.
