BWI (And I Don't Mean The Airport)
It's my last full day here. Tomorrow I leave around noon. I get to indulge in the infinite joy that is coastal air travel. Thank God I picked up a new book this afternoon: Sex And The City. Yes, the same book that inspired the witty, award winning HBO TV series. So I will be well entertained on my way home.
Last night was another story though. I spent half the day exploring the Bar Harbor Village Green. It was not bad. Busy and full of shops and eateries. The shops pretty much carried identical over priced kitschy seaside/country trinkets. Lobsters of course are the main thing here and there is no end to the litany of lobster related paraphernalia you can buy. And for some inexplicable reason the moose is also a big icon here as well. I'm not sure what that stems from and I didn't want to come off as a stupid tourist and ask someone. But they had a whole store devoted to overpriced moose wear.
After exploring the "downtown" area I got back on the LL Bean bus and headed back to Southwest Harbor. The ride was at least air conditioned but once again I ended up sitting in front of a noisy child that kicked the back of my seat most of the way. Note to self: when coming back to Maine bring not only a lover or a friend but also a car!
I spent the second half of the afternoon sunbathing out on the deck again. I am determined to go back to DC with a healthy summer "glow." This paper white skin of mine needs some color dammit. Nobody likes a farmers tan (which is what I've been sporting all summer), especially me!.
After the sun became monstrously obstructed by cloud-cover I moved to sitting in a chair and staring at the scenery. At about 6 I decided to head over to Beal's again for another lobster dinner and a second chance to flirt with the cute Euro boys that work there. Maybe I would get lucky and score. No such luck but the lobster was good nonetheless.
What happened after that will go down in the history book of "Mike's Embarrassing Drunken Exploits." I had started a fresh bottle of white wine with the Lobster. Because the lobster isn't that heavy and wine goes straight to my head anyway after a glass or two I was quite tipsy. I was still staring at the scenery and feeling bummed about the solitude and the fact that I was going back to DC in 48 hours. I was also missing John terribly. Add another glass of wine to that and we have a BAD situation. I decided I needed to get drunk. Correction that I was going to get drunk and it was going to be good.
In order to achieve this goal one bottle of wine was not going to cover it. I needed a second. That would require me going into the local village 10 minutes away and purchasing one. Problem was I was lit up, so getting there would be problematic and chances are some smart clerk would spot the fact I was potted and deny the sale. I decided to take the chance anyway. Besides I wasn't THAT gone... yet.
Getting there was still a problem. You can walk but it takes forever and it was getting dusk. Biking is really the easiest way. But I had been drinking and my motor skills were watery. You can't operate a bike in that condition, or can you? After giving the situation a few minutes of careful consideration I did what any rationalizing drunk would do. I got on the bike and committed a BWI: Bicycling While Intoxicated. Yeah. I didn't weave too badly and kept the near falling over to a minimum. Actually I think the fresh air helped sober me up a bit. 
I got to the grocery store and bought the wine and some snacks. The clerks didn't even notice my "bright eyes" and I was impressed that I was able to have an intelligent conversation with them without slipping up. I got back on the bike and wobbled home. One nice thing about my brain when I drink is that I am still pretty with it. I brought my satchel bag with me so I could get the wine home safely.
However it was not going to be just as easy as that. What transpired next is what happens when you decide to deliberately feed your melancholy by drinking heavily and watching reruns on Nick At Night. I called John.
I swear that man is a saint. He could tell right away that I wasn't myself, not only was I breaking the cellular vow of silence but I was also VERY "happy" sounding on the phone. Let's put it this way, I could hear my own loudness and I was the one who was soused. Yeah... He talked to me and I poured my drunken pathetic little heart out. We talked for a few hours and at the end of it I felt better and was painfully sober. He helped me shed a lot of light on some stuff so I am not too upset about the encounter. I'm just embarrassed that I called him up while drunk and admitted to drinking heavily AND smoking. Did I mention the man is in the process of quitting smoking? *Sigh*
So that was my night. After I hung up with him I drank a bunch of water (to head off the impending hangover) and crawled into bed. I slept relatively well, though even as I dreamed it felt as if I were swimming. The world had an underwater feel to it.
Today I decided to forgo hiking. Of all the activities I intended to do on this vacation that was one that just didn't happen. Aside from briefly passing through Acadia National Park on the bus I didn't go into it. The $20 park permit required to enter added to the list of reasons (the Hellish bus included) why I never made it. I just didn't feel up to it in the end, and while I feel moderately guilty it is something for me to do when I come back. I have bonded a lot with nature during this trip and I have a lot of great pictures already, so it's all good. 
