We decided to celebrate the end of the summer with a little beach vacation in the Outer Banks which is, it seems, where WalMart shoppers spend their holidays. Being the end of summer and on the tail of a hurricane, it was deserted and we had the place to ourselves. We rented this beach house with one of my oldest friends, my roommate senior year of high school, and her boyfriend.
It wasn't lie on the sand weather--it was more like walk on the beach in a sweater weather--but it was a lovely little holiday. Highlights included:The raw bar where J. polished off 34 oysters
Spotting a great blue heron
Cooking a bouillabaisse, complete with a garlic rouille
Breakfast at Sting Rays, Cape Charles, Virginia, where a sweet potato biscuit with country ham was $1.49
On the drive home, I was employing my usual methods, including tailgating and intimidating the slower vehicles, until one of the cars I was harassing began emitting a siren and lights. It was an unmarked police vehicle manned by a very twitchy, furious North Carolina cop. "Do you know what, Ma'am?" he began. "I have half a mind to throw you in jail for reckless driving!" I rolled my eyes and handed him my license. What North Carolina calls reckless driving, we in New York call simply driving. It didn't help that my last extended stint behind the wheel was in South Africa, where it's necessary to drive like a hellion to avoid being run off the road. As it was, I was sent on my way with no more than a warning and an admonishment that "If you exceed the speed limit by one mile from here to the Virginia state line, you can look in your side mirror to see me COMING TO ARREST YOU." Sure you will. And with that I went on my way.
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