Maine Travelogue Day One Continued: But Not For Me
The Marmot came to greet us and explain that our rooms weren't ready yet and that although he had to stay and continue to work, his roommate, Prufrock, would be able to join us briefly for lunch before returning to work. So we all packed into the cars again.

Before we were even out of the driveway Tough Guy started, "We could have stopped at Freeport on the way here and gone shopping. And why are we going to a chain restaurant? I wanted to explore some place local."

After lunch, Prufrock returned to camp, and we decided to drive around and have a look. Suddenly Tough Guy had an orgasm when he realized we were driving by a place with batting cages AND miniature golf. We pulled both cars in the driveway.

Although the rest of the group was excited by the prospect of swinging at balls and battling windmills, Big Bad sidled up to me and asked me if I wouldn't prefer to continue our exploration of town, most specifically a biker bar called the Bootlegger.

The bar was larger and cleaner than expected with only a few patrons and female bartender who was talking about her upcoming trip to Italy. Dollar bills were tacked to the ceiling and the walls were decorated with vanity plates. Big Bad ordered us two Pabst Blue Ribbons, or PBRs as he called them, and we sat chatting. He talked to the bikers while I talked to the bartender about how to get the best exchange rates. It was the first time I felt relaxed, thought that maybe now that we were here things would mellow out, considered that maybe this would be a fun vacation as I promised.

After an hour and a half, we picked up the group, which decided they wanted to see the Bootlegger for themselves. I had Marv, my co pilot, tucked in my bag because he disturbs the Model. How a stuffed killer rabbit can disturb someone, I'm not sure. I checked to make sure his head wasn't visible when CQ asked me, "Do you always travel with him?" "I don't always have him with me, but yes I do travel with him." "I've seen him at the bar a few times." "I bring him to work sometimes, but not always." "I think that's wierd."

I do not tolerate that kind of criticism when it is leveled at me by a closeted homosexual vetrinarian who has admitted to drinking cat urine and has the lexicon of a brain damaged three year old.

But I wanted to keep the peace. After all I had been controlling myself all day for the benefit of the group. What was one more insult?

It was time to get ready for dinner, so I slipped into Big Bad's car and returned to camp.

Our rooms in the Infirmary were ready. They had been assigned: Tough Guy and the Model in one room, the Amazon and Big Bad in another room, and CQ and I in a bunkroom each with single beds.

And this is where I lost it.

After coping with the travel anxiety, the bickering couple, Tough Guy's complaining, CQ's baby talk, now, just as I feared, I was essentially being punished for being single.

Growing up as I have, vanishing into the forest is easy. I slipped down by the water and smoked a cigarette. After twenty minutes ro so I reappeared. The Marmot was giving a grand tour of the grounds. By the game cabin, I stayed behind on the deck to look at the water. I was still raging and the high spirits of the rest of the group only fueled it. Big Bad came back to talk to me.

We stood on the deck and occassionally he gave me a puff of his cigar. He was telling me how he was happy that I came with them, that no one thinks less of me for not being involved, and I was beginning to feel better when the Model came up and said "Listen, Bunni, it's not a big deal. The only reason why they put me and Tough Guy together is so in case we want to have sex later."

You have to love my friends.

And I mean that. YOU have to love them because for me most of the time it's battle to keep from killing them.

The Model traipsed off into the woods and Big Bad tried to continue the conversation. He is usually very closed mouthed about his personal life, but he talked to me about his ex-wives how extraordinary they are. "It's different with the Amazon, though" and he paused, looking across the lake, "She's amazing."

I put off writing this entry because to write these stories I have to go back and relive these moments. And no one in their right mind would want to go back to that moment. The remembrance of things past never to be regained. Paradise Lost.

We rejoined the group as the food and most importantly the wine was being set out on the table. The Marmot was playing wine steward filling my glass to the top. For the first time, the other staff members, mainly Australian eye candy came out. According to Big Bad, one of them was eyeing me. He offered to make introductions, but I wasn't interested in flirting that night. All I wanted to do was drink.

And drink I did.

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