“Maine is a beautiful place. But-”
That’s been the way I’ve started every sentence pertaining to Maine for… the past few days.
Maine is a beautiful place, of course. I love it up here. I love the air an the views.
Today we went to Popham Beach, one of the few beaches you actually have to pay to get into. The phone service is awful and I was a little disappointed I couldn’t talk to Erin, but it was very nice out, and the waves are about four to five feet high on pretty much every day. Today, the water was cold, very cold, but after a while it was refreshing and even frolic-able.
I started the beach trip out by running with Brian out to the waves. Brian complained about how the water was like ice. I was like, “Why do people say that shit? If it was as cold as ice, it’d be ice, bitch.” And I said that out loud, mind you. I left Brian on the shore and jumped It was cold, but I loved it immediately, and soon Brian was in with me, and we were throwing clumps of soft sand at each other and sitting down to get swept away by waves. I was submerged for almost fifteen or twenty seconds, stuck in a current, and I really wasn’t that deep; I was just, hypothermic or something. Who cares, I didn’t die.
So I got back out and walked back to where we set up (the beach was huge. It was a bit more than a football field’s walk back, probably, to our umbrella). Henry still hadn’t gotten back from his excursion to the island. The island was a big rock out in the water that people swam to and climbed. Brian asked if I wanted to go back out, and I said no, I’d stay and read Dancing Carl. It’s a Gary Paulson book about a stripper. Kidding. Guess what it’s about??
Right! Ice skating.
I read for a few minutes on my stomach, stretched out on a beach towel, and then fell asleep. I awoke to this:
“Hey, look. It’s a dead guy. Haha!”
I wasn’t dead, I was just listening to two bratty ten year-olds. One was a skinny kid with firey ginger hair, the other kind of chubby with a crew cut. I got all of this from just looking up a little bit, and the moment I did-
“Hey, let’s poke it- Oh! It twitched!”
I sat up. “Hey, kids. Wanna play a game?”
They blinked. “What-”
They ran off, and I guess I wasn’t firm enough, because they were still giggling a little. Sigh. Kids have no respect, anymore. I think every generation ever will end up saying those words.
I think that I must be a little crazy, because we went to the store later and I started paying attention to everybody.
“Don’t… don’t people look weird?”
She looked up. “What?”
“The people in Maine. Don’t they look weird.”
She paused and looked around. “… No.”
I stood there, confused. “I think people in Maine look different than other people.” It was true, I did think that. But they probably aren’t.
I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking, though. Maybe I just saw more elderly than young. Maybe they all wear weird clothes. Maybe they think I look weird, which, you know, I do.
On the whole, there isn’t much to complain about- I mean, sure, there are some jerk kids here, but there are jerk kids everywhere… and weird-looking ones, too.
I’m just trying to get used to it. Knowing me, I’ll be used to it when we leave this Saturday.