The BF and I are on a vacation to Maine of all fucking places. There are like 49 other states I'd rather be in but whatever.
We drive up to this rocky parking lot overlooking a tidal marshy-thing. The parking spot we have faces this sketchy tavern (poorly!) constructed out of odd bits of wood that is sortof standing above this marsh on a series of stilts. The only way to get to this tavern is by crossing over this 1/4 mile long wooden walkway, which is also up on stilts of questionable craftsmanship. The walkway extends away from us and connects up to a neighborhood on the other side of this marsh.
This place looks like crap, we collectively think, just before the rotted out stilts collapse and the shoddy building falls into the marsh. What can you really expect from a state that brought you that company that built it's reputation on boots that fall apart? We laugh our asses off.
As I am trying to drive away the car starts sliding backwards through the gravel parking lot. We come to a rest at the end of the parking lot without hitting anything and manage to drive away. We consider going to like Panera or something.
We decide Panera is too easy of a choce, and we end up at some questionable diner who has it's menus in old text books and children's stories.
Lame.
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