It’s been a while since we broke out of New England but we did so last week for a few VERY BUSY days! The following two weeks will likely all be blog entries from said trip so enjoy as I milk this adventure to death. Our destination was North Carolina but that’s a hell of a drive so we decided to stop halfway through to get a chocolate fix and maybe a few giggles.
For some reason I had no idea Hershey Park was a theme park. I thought it was some sort of boring educational park… with chocolate (which if I’m honest makes everything better.) I was a little shocked to see a closed theme park with enough parking lots to cover a small town. The gift shop was open, I was being told. OKAY…
The gift shop was indeed open and full of people with their small children. It was a little weird… who comes all this way for a gift shop? Even myself was more here looking for a bathroom. I’m a creature of simple needs, what can I say? After we found the rest rooms we wandered back into the shops, plural. One had mugs and bric-a-bracs, the other chocolate. So much chocolate. And we had come at the right time of year as there was Easter candy marked down as well as other goodies including Reeses peanut butter cups the size of a child’s head for $5. And if that wasn’t enough there was a long line for people making their own peanut butter cup with whatever fillings they wanted kind of like a sundae bar. Those were expensive though and the line was more than I wanted to deal with. Instead I grabbed a Nutrageous which my companion told me was the best and a package of caramel chocolates which I had no idea Hershey even made. I was also surprised to learn they also owned Twizzlers and Jolly Ranchers. It was fun finding weird flavors of all these things!
We did eventually find an educational display, wandered through it like it was the most fascinating thing on earth, and eventually ended up at a free ride! It was on moving ground… which… made for a very not graceful entrance on my part. Imagine a dog trying to stand in the car and that’s probably about as much balance I had as I plopped into the cart. We then got to ride through a fake factory and see the whole process of how chocolate was made, narrated by animatronic cows and various other critters. It was all very cutesy and I was a little embarrassed at points as it was making me dizzy. Christ, I can’t even handle toddler rides any more. This is getting ridiculous. Don’t age, it’s not fun! But by the end we were rewarded with a free bite size chocolate bar which I felt like I’d earned.
This was a fun little stop off with clean bathrooms! We got our fix of sweets and wandered out maybe half an hour later after peering through the gates to the closed theme park side of things. There’s few things as creepy as abandoned carnival rides without a soul in sight. I approve. Not sure how I’d feel about it if I were there during the season but eh. It was all good.
My companion’s interest in military history is not one I share and if I am to be brutally honest this is not a destination I would have chosen on my own. Though I respect that WWII happened I didn’t really feel like spending an afternoon reminding myself what shitheads the human race can be especially when my faith in it has already been floundering. But sometimes you just take one for the team… and end up pleasantly surprised.
When we drove up there was a sign for a cobbler sharing the window with the museum entrence posters. My companion looked at me and inquired, “Is this going to be another Titanic Museum, tucked away in the back room behind a shop?” There was only one way to find out.
Inside we were immediately welcomed by multiple staff members (i.e. this place wasn’t run by some lone weirdo out of his basement, which is sorta what I was expecting…) Apparently this place was actually run by a bunch of documentarians who had done a crap-ton of documentaries on various subjects relating to World War II. Some of them were playing as we walked through, others were being offered on a free DVD for patronizing the museum. We were asked if we wanted a guide and we said that was alright, we can poke around by our lonesome. We were then led through the screamy machine (otherwise known as a metal detector.) Not 100% sure if that was to prevent nutjobs from bringing in weapons or sneaking out with them… either way I was only armed with a purse with a metal zipper and had no desire whatsoever to cuddle a grenade within it.
This is when we were met with an army of mannikins, all dressed in various uniforms from the era representing different countries. As I looked closer I noticed some of the mannikins had fake eye lashes on them and one had a Sharpie doodled mustache that was supposed to look like Clarke Gable. I couldn’t contain my snicker at this and of course that’s when a teenage boy appeared, asking us if we’d like a guide. At first we politely declined but then he told us he could “set some things off” if we wanted, a phrase that wasn’t in any way alarming. With raised eye brows and no sense of personal safety we relented and let the teenage boy bring out a big noise maker which he wound until it whirred and screamed. Cool.
I may have wandered off at this point to do some subtle poking on my own. I found a small collection of photos that were the aftermath of the Holocaust. Just stacks of emaciated dead bodies. Honestly, I was expecting more of these soul-crushing images but instead I was met more with a gentle curiosity as in the same area there was a display of folk art made by concentration camp prisoners. For me this is where the connection is, where you find the humanity in the clouds of cruelty. I wandered back to my companion and the guide boy just as he was pointing out Blondie the German Shepard’s diamond swastika bedazzled collar. She belonged to Hitler. I wondered what she did in a previous life to deserve that. “So we’re sending you back to earth as man’s best friend.” “Awesome!” “And your man will be Hitler.” “Seriously?!” As you can see I have taken it upon myself to be ahead of the censors and cover all the swastikas here on out with a begrudgingly AI created poodle because despite having drawn a weekly comic for two and a half years I apparently have forgotten everything I ever learned about how to operate illustration software. SIGH.
After this we wandered with our youthful guide through various rooms with him handing us various grenades, shells, and other implements of war. Eventually we stopped by a mannikin of a Romanian woman in “camouflage” which looked remarkably similar to a floral bedspread. I joked to my companion, with my usual deadpan expression, “It’s not working.” This completely threw our poor guide off as he squeaked, “Why would you say that?” “because I can still see her… I was being silly…” At this point our guide started breathing again and apologized saying he’s autistic and sometimes doesn’t get jokes. I should have probably said it’s OK, I’m also autistic and remember very much what it was like being your age and constantly confused but I didn’t. I just smiled. That’s really all the spoons I had at that moment.
After this our guide got to talking about all sorts of things completely unrelated – horror movies, Disney rides, zombies. Apparently we’d gained his trust. And when we got back on track? Well, that’s when things kinda devolved a bit. First we noticed a heinously racist poster and read it… it was a grotesquely caracturized Japanese man thanking the US troops for not wearing condoms and spreading VD. I guess our guide boy, who had been familiar with most things here, had never looked that hard at this really messed up piece of satire. Honestly, the most racist relics I’ve ever come across on our travels always tend to be anti-Japanese propaganda from WWII. Our boy stuttered a bit as I just commented it was almost as uncomfortable to look as the Donald Duck reel telling soldiers about the horrors of venereal disease.
This wouldn’t be the first or the last time we gave our guide a run for his money. In another room he showed us plastic leeches and snakes hanging off one jungle-beaten manniken but I saw something more interesting peering down at us from a case above my head: a little brick-a-brac of a gleeful infant riding a bomb. “Why is there a baby riding a bomb?” “What? Oh my god, I never noticed that before. What does it say on it?” I looked back at my photo. It read, “Hatched in the USA.” This did not make it any better. More nervous laughter.
Then things really toppled into the weird as we found a case befitting a collection from the Shame Wizard. I’d always though that Nazi dildos were a joke. Nope… here we were face to face with a distressingly wooden dildo with Hitler’s face carved into it. Guess there’s something for everyone here I muttered under my breath. Personally, I couldn’t figure out if the obscene shape of it was more offensive or the fact it could give you splinters. Maybe you’d deserve splinters for that one, I don’t know. I couldn’t help but think about that one manniken in a SS uniform with this crazy shocked expression on his face. I feel like he knew.
And onward we continued to a whole corner of anti-Hitler folk art and propaganda. Really odd things over there, including a little Hitler manniken that our guide boy said no one knew much about but he supposed it was broken because the hand on it was not in the correct position for the Nazi salute it was attempting. This is where us oldies started to feel a bit bad because we couldn’t not tell this poor boy that no, this doll was not broken. It was giving a limp-wristed salute quite purposely. “Oooooh! Like he’s… gay?! I did NOT know that!” Course, then my companion couldn’t help pointing out the pin cushion shaped like Hitler bending over with pins jutting out of his ass. I sighed as the guide boy had another epiphany. This train was thoroughly derailed. And never have I felt older or queerer than in this moment. But I suppose there are worse things.
After this we cycled through on our own again noting different things other than the artillery we got to handle with our guide. I really appreciated a cute little summer dress apparently made by a French woman out of a food supplies parachute. One point for resourceful upcycling. And so we concluded our tour.
By now our search for places that serve breakfast to late risers was getting a little thin. We had to spread out a little bit, drive somewhat further to Narragansett. For whatever reason we hadn’t spent a lot of time in this town even though it was close by. All I knew about it was that this was where the famed Narragansett turkey breed was from. Laugh all you want but this is where the Pilgrims (or Puritans?) realized turkeys could be domesticated and eaten without having to go out hunting them. This was no small thing. A whole new species of livestock!
So did we eat turkey? No, I said we came here for breakfast not Thanksgiving. There were a few wild special options on the wall including a S’mores Pancake with marshmallow spread and chocolate. I decided not to court the diabetes demon today. Instead I looked at their choice of toast which included pecan and cranberry toast, and built a breakfast out from there. I had an omelet, home fries, and some pecan and walnut toast! I do not remember what my companion had and I sadly forgot to take a photo. The omelet was loaded with veggies just like I like. The potatoes were alright. The toast… was different and very thick but honestly, I wasn’t all that impressed by it. It was a lot like wheat bread with chunks. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t really that. It wasn’t bad though… just a little odd. My feelings on this place were kind of lukewarm but I’m open to trying it again to see if maybe I just came on an off day for myself.
On this particular night, several weeks ago, we were inundated with snow and there wasn’t exactly a lot of places to park. My companion chose a place he knew had a parking lot but when we got there we realized that it was for the building behind the restaurant and the parking was $30 an hour. I almost spit out a few teeth sputtering when I learned that. That also explained why the lot was nearly empty.
I hoped back into my trusty car and we nearly ripped off the bumper on the entrance to this parking lot which had a big old bump on a steep decline. Sometimes I hate having such a low slung car. I then went on to piss off traffic as I tried and failed at parallel parking before driving up the street and finding three open spots that allowed me just to slide in all cool-like. We walked back, me hoping the $30 parking wasn’t an inclination of how expensive the food would be because WHEW, that would be bad.
This place was bustling. There almost was nowhere to sit but we lucked out and got one of those tall tables for two next to a breezy door behind the fireplace. I looked around. Yuppies. So many yuppies. You know… college students and like-aged individuals who clearly were of the upper middle class and likely living on stipends from their parents or trust funds or whatever. Came with that weirdly tacky beach vibe decor. I raised an eyebrow. Maybe it was the bar. Maybe people came here to get too drunk to notice. But even that seemed unlikely. Though not my normal crowd everyone seemed to be behaving themselves.
We ordered a flatbread pizza and shared a side of potatoes. Both were OK. Just like the rest of this place. We weren’t displeased but not thrilled either. It was just the epitome of mediocre. I will say however if I were a college student who drank I’d probably be more enthusiastic about it.
I’m so backlogged on these on these entries I don’t even remember why we were in East Providence, but it must have been for something. ANYWAY. There was this lovely little BBQ place near the comedy club, so close in fact that one of their specials was named after it. We had come here looking for some BBQ food with signature sauces because why else? Sometimes you just know what you want (which is so nice compared to the usual of having no goddamn idea at all.)
As we walked in there was a few people there including a kid who I believe probably belonged to one of the staff who reminded me of my own childhood following my mother to the sweatshop. I know people these days tend to look down upon this, but I actually find it kind of heartwarming these institutions still exist especially in this cruel economy. I often feel like Americans have no idea what community is – it’s this, everyday people coming up with novel solutions and being able to rely on each other. On the tables were little ring toss games for the patrons. The TV was broadcasting trivia night questions being played in the bar side. I really liked the atmosphere of this place. It was warm and welcoming.
I ordered some sort of dark meat chicken with corn and a salad. My companion had chicken, pulled pork, mac n’ cheese, potato salad, and a piece of cornbread which I think was supposed to be on my plate? It ended up there in any event. I’m not going to lie the salad was underwhelming. A small tin of lettuce with some wilted cherry tomatoes but I can give this a pass since no one in their right mind comes to a smoke house for salad (I was just having a craving for greens.) The rest of the food though? Amazing. The chicken was moist, the signature sauces were delicious, and the cornbread… oh my god the cornbread. Best part of the whole damn thing. So crumbly and warm! My companion was also happy with his pulled pork. We both decided this hit the spot and was well worth checking it out.
This was another one of those surprising finds. It was in a part of town (one of the touristy parts) that I rarely go to so neither one of us had any idea this place was here. Of course, it’s off season being across the beach in the dead of winter so I really enjoyed having it all to ourselves on this particular day, save for one patron who came in later and gushed about how great this place was. And it was!
The counter had some fresh baked pastries and baklava as we walked in. I made a mental note of this. Cravings. They just come out of nowhere sometimes. The woman running the place was very sweet and took our order. We were here for breakfast but the lunch menu seemed far more intriguing. I like to order different things wherever I go to feed my endless need for novelty (thank you ADHD!) and on this particular day I noticed she had an eggplant dish. I’d grown eggplant in my garden before but then realized I had no idea what to do with them. Perhaps today I could learn. I also ordered a side of spanakorizo in case the eggplant went sideways. My companion ordered the Souvlaki. Being on the touristy side of town this place was more expensive than we were accustomed to buuuut DAMN was the food good!
The eggplant pita was just perfect. The eggplant was roasted just right, wasn’t too mushy, wasn’t spongey. And the fresh warm pita it was on? Oooh, bread heaven! So even though this was a peculiar choice for even myself I really enjoyed it. And I also got to try my companion’s Souvlaki which oooooh, I would order that next time for sure! So good! But the best part funny enough was the side of spanakorizo. That was divine! I would have been happy with just a plate of that!
We didn’t really have the cash or the room in our stomachs for dessert but if it’s anything as good as the main menu I would love to try sometime. Maybe for a dessert date. Still eying that baklava. What a wonderful little place. There must be so many happy memories here.
After having a delightful breakfast at the Bluebird Cafe we wandered the plaza and decided to check out the Picture This Framing Center and Gallery which had some absolutely wonderful art in their front window that looked like it was from local artists. All sorts of seascapes, some with krakens which really filled me with such joy. I mean the beach is fun buuut a beach with a kraken is way more exciting! And such a delightful conversation starter to hang on your wall!
Now I don’t have money… or walls I can hang art on… but I needed to go in. This place was small but so goddamn cute. The staff asked us if we needed help right away but we were keen to just be nosey on our own. There was indeed a framing station behind all the art and a nook full of weird and wonderful greeting cards. And at the cashier’s desk I was thrilled to find a bunch of locally written books about the area. I picked one up called The Monkey’s Fist which I assure you is far more PG than it sounds. It was about one man’s life working the ferry that goes to Block Island.
“Have you been to Block Island?”
“No…. it’s on my list though!”
“Oh! You’ll never want to come back!”
High praise indeed. I managed to read the first couple chapters so far and a monkey’s fist is apparently a very seriously heavy knot. You learn something every day! This place was adorable. Should I ever get my dream of a home of my own I will definitely return and request a kraken print or painting. No bathroom is complete without one.
This is going to sound absolutely bonkers but a few winters ago I was driving at night past Kellie’s Cafe and I saw a velociraptor in the parking lot. A fucking life-size dinosaur was just chilling there on a trailer at 3am. Now, I know from previous instances in my life that it’s best not to ask questions buuuut the next morning the damn velociraptor was gone and I was left wondering what glitch in the matrix I’d just witnessed. I made note of which parking lot it was and kept this story to my damn self until over a year later my companion excitedly explained there was a life-size bronze velociraptor living in the yard at Aardvark Antiques just down the road. I KNEW IT!! I DID SEE A DINOSAUR!
What does this have to do with the little British cafe whose parking lot was once infested with prehistoric beasts? Not much. I doubt they had any idea. But seeing as I now knew about this place why not check it out? I like British things… especially Doctor Who. Fucking love Doctor Who. This place had a big old Britishly colored teapot as it’s sign outside so this seemed like good indication it’d be interesting…
Inside the cafe was absolutely tiny with only a few tables. Two servicemen and a single English dude were the only customers here on this particular day. We made our way in quietly and sat down while looking at the back wall which had a HUGE teacup display behind a life size cut out of the queen. I mean I get it, I know y’all have a king now but he has the charisma of a frozen cod fish soooo… I’ll accept this weird tribute to the former queen. My English friend tells me this is customary and everyone has one to mutter loyalties to once a day. Pretty sure he’s fucking with me there.
ANYWAY… we were tended to by a sweet lady whose accent sounded American for a few sentences and then not so much. Cracked me up. I love British accents. She offered us tea with our breakfast and I accepted. My companion stuck to coffee. We looked over the menu and realized there was fun options here to play with. A Full English Breakfast was one. My companion took that. I on the other hand I was morbidly curious about the Scotch Egg. I’d seen one being eaten on Broadchurch and heard people talking about them several times since but my grasp of what it actually was was…. poor. One way to find out! Our hostess seemed delighted I wanted to try one and she asked if my companion would like the blood pudding with his English breakfast at which point I think his brain shuttered. He struggled to answer for a moment but then said no. I on the other hand would have said yes to the iron-addled hockey puck I assume to be blood pudding. You only live once after all. And “you have to have blood pudding” says the guy who claims everyone has a cardboard cutout of the queen. (I know this entire blog entry screams unreliable narrator but I swear to god…)
My companion was very happy with his full English breakfast which he found to be very filling. I stole some of his beans which I remarked were tomato-y because British baked beans are different than Boston baked beans which rely on molasses. Still, they tasted good and I think our odd conversation was being listened to by everyone else here, especially when I received the Scottish egg and set about dissecting it for science. Mind you, it was egg-shaped and I supposed an actual egg, but that says very little doesn’t it? I cut it in half with a knife I stole from my companion (as my tomato sandwich did not require cutlery.) Inside was indeed a hard-boiled egg. On the outside it seemed to be some sort of sausage-filled batter, deep fried of course. It was filling! And I guess great for shoving in your pockets for later if you happen to work in a Victorian coal mine. I do not. And I’m not the biggest fan of sausage or hard-boiled eggs but that being said it wasn’t bad and I’m happy I tried it. I’m also happy I figured out how to use the odd plate and utensil that came with my tea. I hope the weird stick/spoon thing was to retrieve my tea bag because that’s what I used it for. I have to thank anyone who has ever called me “worldly” because I am 100% faking knowing anything. Please do not leave me unsupervised.
Finally, we ended our little meal and went to the counter which was apparently a danger zone because it was covered in English sweets. Chocolate covered digestives, Turkish delights, Jaffa cakes, numerous candy bars and the like. We took some home to keep on experimenting. I’ve never actually had a digestives with my tea… will it kick it up a notch? Guess we’ll see!
Since we had some time to spare waiting for our slot to open in the Boxaroo escape room we decided to wander a bit and find somewhere to eat. We’d naively believed that Faniel Hall would be open after dark but I guess in the winter months they’re not. So, we disappeared into our sweaters and headed out for a brisk walk in the sleet and snow. We were relieved to stumble upon a tavern but upon entering the bouncer was not buying I was forty years old, carded me, and then seemed annoyed I had a valid driver’s license. Thank you, by the way. These days you got to take a compliment where you can. That being said this place was bursting at the seams and there wasn’t a waitress or waiter in sight. So, we walked back out into the dreary weather where we stumbled upon an absolutely empty little Mexican restaurant which was decorated to the hilt in Cinqo de Mayo decor. Even the benches were painted with idyllic Mexican scenes. It was kind of cute.
“…Are you open…?”
Yes! Yes, they were! But they required a key to use the bathroom. I’d rather die than ask for that so I waited. And in the meanwhile, we ordered. I had the burrito bowl, my companions had soft tacos, nachos, and some other things I didn’t quite understand. I do apologize here that I am not particularly experienced with Mexican food.
The chicken burrito bowl was huge. I ended up taking it home and making two more meals of it. And it came with fresh guacamole which… if you’re not me you might enjoy! (It’s a texture thing…) The chicken was good, the beans were wonderful, the entire bowl mixed up really well. My companion’s tacos looked lovely and the nachos I taxed were so crispy-crunchy that it lit the neurons in my brain up like a Christmas tree. I didn’t even know I wanted something crispy-crunchy but after I bit into it that’s kind of all I wanted. That and the limes. I’m not sure why we got fresh lime wedges but I ate them by themself and remembered fondly how much I like fresh lemons and limes. The AuADHD brain is a funny thing.
Anyway, it was a nice little place. Quick service and fun Mexican beverages (which I did not try but perhaps should have.) We were quite full when we waddled off down the street to continue our evening, my companion scolding me to put my sweater back on which I only obliged because it was sleeting. As of late I’m pretty sure my blood has been transformed into lava because I can’t handle being anywhere that’s above 40F degrees. SIGH.
**One super vague partial spoiler in this review**
It’d been a while since we had gone to an escape room and this one in Boston had some glowing reviews. Though I admit I loathe driving (and parking!) in Boston I was content to try this escape room partially because we got there via train which was… so much easier.
Anyway! Due to our quick arrival, we were early and had time to mull about in the sleet and rain for a bit, peering in the window before sauntering off to fill our bellies and come back. The waiting room in this place had big windows facing the street and they had several high tables with various puzzles to play with while we waited. The staff was quite frankly adorable, enthusiastic about working here, and very friendly. When our time came up we were escorted to the elevators and given directions how to get where we needed to go.
We had chosen the Writer’s Secret room which can take up to 75 minutes with 3-5 players. The website describes it as “immersive and adaptive.” On this day we had three players, as a fourth was home with a bad back. Getting old sure is fun…
We were told we could take photos, I chose not to as this was a particularly whimsical room and I didn’t want to ruin the magic. The premise was we needed to help an author come up with ideas for her next book by examining clues in the room which turned out to be a hallway and three rooms besides. Obviously, we started in the hallway at the writing desk and I actually understood the puzzle! That never happens. I’m actually quite bad at puzzles and a bit of a dead weight in these exercises. I will note however one of the best features of this room was the lack of math. I can really get behind that.
It didn’t take long for my companions to find the other puzzles and start working on them as I followed quietly behind. The first room had a marine theme to it and was kinda cute. At one point I was told the shell was whispering secrets. When I asked what the hell that meant he just repeated his sentence as if it wasn’t complete Gibberish. This meant nothing to me. It meant nothing to the other player either. And that’s why this puzzle probably took the longest.
The three rooms were an ocean room, a weird fairy nook, and a smelting room. There was only one combination lock, the rest of the puzzles resulted in actions that’d give you the next step to a different puzzle. It was indeed very immersive with a lot of thuds and bangs coming from other rooms when we solved something! I particularly enjoyed the smelting furnace which took a “gold” brick and returned a key. I just found that cute.
This may have been my favorite escape room to date, if not definitely in the top three. I loved the whimsy, the lack of math and numbered locks (which I feel other rooms rely way too much on,) and just how very Rube Goldberg-y this whole set up felt. We solved the room with more than twenty minutes to spare but did have to ask for two hints. Begrudgingly.
