SOLO DRIVEN ADVENTURE HUNGRY – EASTERN AMERICAN TOUR – PART 3
A girl, her truck and their adventures © Monaya MaGaurn 2021
Portland, Maine
Arriving in Burlington, I texted my Vermont friends and checked into the Holiday Inn Express again. First things first, cold water. Let’s switch rooms again. I settled in and slept so hard. The following morning I woke up with what I will call excitement. I was in Vermont, and I was going to Maine today to visit someone I had not seen in seven years. I knew I was in one of those towns where there is good art and great coffee around every turn. I ended up at Brio, talking to a roaster about inoculated yeast coffee. That was an eye-opener! I grabbed a pound, cortado, and a latte heading for the hills. There is more than me that tours around in a LandRover, I mean, there are other chicks that decided a Defender was a good idea too. They don’t talk about how long it takes to get any where either. Vermont was a travel day, intentionally traveling that route, nonetheless, just passing through.
At every gas stop across Vermont, Sarge and I ran into a Range Rover or Discovery, making friends and chatting everywhere. As I got closer to Maine, my excitement turned to anxiety. But I was getting a haircut – so after a panic attack at a ski resort in New Hampshire and a walk down a creek for two hours – Sarge and I arrived safely at the Embassy Suites in Portland, Maine, at about 7:45.
I checked in and ran away as fast as I could. I wanted a lobster roll, and everything was closing. Sprinting down the pier, my car keys, phone, and credit card were in my hand. Stopping for one second and in slow motion, I watched my door key slip up the loop it was on, magically fly into the less-than-quarter-inch open space and fly off into the ocean under my feet. Great. Fuck it; I’m still hungry. I was still running. The third stop was open and had my favorite tequila. Spicy marg, lobster roll, and a conversation with my first executive chef, and I wasn’t stressed out anymore. I was finishing strong with an all-time favorite- blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream and lemon zest. My grandmother used to serve it to me for breakfast.
I went back to the hotel, which I did not mention, was a two-room suite. I was stoked when I got there, gitty. I took a bath in the oversized soaker tub and turned on some Netflix. I was making some asinine Disney noise as I settled into bed, pulling the blankets over my shoulder. My eyelids slammed open. Wtf is that? I reached down in bed to move what I thought was the blanket and pulled a dirty black sock with a leaf stuck to it… lovely. I was kinda upset. Okay, so my whole zen moment was fucked. I went downstairs with the sock in my hand, boxers, and hoodie. “Excuse me – uh, this was in my bed. What do you think we can do about this?”
What I heard on the other side of the wall when this dude called housekeeping was not okay. The anxiety dressed in a cheap suit stepped in. “It will be five minutes, ma’am. I’ll send him up.” Somewhere on the way back to the room, I met the housekeeping guy, apologizing over and over for being late, the sock, and that we had to change the sheets. No matter who you are on this planet, there are moments you have to share with strangers. I sympathized with him on pandemic essential nonhealthcare-related work… He then when into detail about his experience. Then he explained what it was like to work in the hotel during covid. He had worked a lot. He had sacrificed a lot. He was one of 3 left from a staff of 21. The management at this hotel was not holding up their end of the bargain. I knew the following day was going to suck at checkout.
It did. And I won’t go into detail. I will mention that magic folks at Hilton Corporate have acquired Embassy Suites. They are great to work with, and I would go to any other property than where that particular General Manager was not working. End of part one of Hilton Saga. I had to go…and I knew I was getting a haircut, so – here I go.
I made this hair appointment in September. Scrolling away, I came across a @thelitas introductory post. I stopped as she was in Scarborough, Maine, and was a hairstylist. I clicked on her tag. What I found was my dream hairstylist. Layers of fridge and piles of 70s fringe. The shit-eating grin on my face when I sat down in her hair… “You have some of the longest…really long hair.” I love my hair. Swish, Swish, Swish, flipping my hair away. Stepping around the hair on the floor, thinking about the experiences I left there like rings on a tree.
“You have some of the longest…really long hair.”
A cup of magic bean brew, salt water, sand, and some wifi later, Sarge and I made our way to Alouette Beach Resort in Old Orchard, Maine. When you are violently pushed out and find someone that immediately smiles back at you, lean in. Upon check-in, we had an age barrier with the app I booked and the regular check-in process. I was delighted that technology was frowned upon in this case. Eventually, this fabulous older lady, who I have to add also works the kitchen, had to call her general manager Jess. Jess informed me that the app I booked with gets the beachfront suites, and they do not advertise that there; she also mentioned a sauna… on the 4th floor, with a lookout beachfront tower.
I took everything out of Sarge again. I don’t know if it was the ocean’s salt, but the sushi craving was real. I left Sarge in good company with several squad cars on the street. Mildly concerned with the magic of 7/11 across the street. I was distracted by hunger. I stepped over a threshold Eurostyle inside Izakaya Minato, taking a seat on the corner of this bar as the entire place was packed. I looked at the open kitchen feeling my eyes sparkle a little. I had a front-row seat. LET’S DO THIS. It wouldn’t be three minutes before I was entirely engaged in eavesdropping on the first-date couple next to me. “And when you make cheese…the whey floats, and you have the cut the curds with these wires… and I had this goat I would milk….” She got up to go to the bathroom, and I looked at the dude, “Sir, please make her talk more about cheese… I’m a former chef. Can you make her talk about cheese more? Please?”
He told her about my request when she came back. She turned and looked at me and started in with the cheese. I was answering so many questions. We shut down the sushi bar and left for beers and chef talk. It had been so long since I had the feeling – right place, right time, right people. Our conversations went about Paul Simon, goats, and what the fuck each one of us was trying to do with life. That brought us to the question – what are you doing in Maine? I explained it was where many of my former Tahoe friends had migrated, and my x. Greer, the cheese maker, blurted out – “Don’t go. It’s stupid.”
Greer is a strong force in my life to this day. I didn’t go.
I waffled over this for two days and ended up leaving Maine with a twisted stomach and not knowing where I was going next – New York, New Jersey, or Boston. While waffling, I roasted myself for 2 to 3 hours a day. I took breaks to stand on a rooftop overlooking the ocean—the final session 3 hours. I stepped out into the pouring rain and stood for at least 7 minutes. I ordered a hundred dollars in Indian food that night. My tiny self, and I, wrote down all the errands I needed to cover before going…going.
Men, listen up if you want to make an impression.
Sarge was hungry in the morning on the way to get his fresh key. We stopped for diesel. Like a curious little boy, this man peered around his new Denali Sierra at Sarge. “Get closer; he won’t bite,” I said. Bellowing laughter came out of this guy. “Where did you get this thing..”
I won’t forget this guy for two reasons. So men, listen up if you want to make an impression. To so said dude’s wife – I’m sorry, but he’s your prize. So many questions about what I was doing with Sarge… He had built a brand new Tecoma and sold it to get the Denali. He was a big-game bow hunter. I explained I was a retired chef traveling and trying to chill out. He asked if I had eaten at Scales. This was the second time I had been asked this. “No- why?”
“Oh, I think, well, It’s – just go there.” He explained that you could bring wild game and ask the chef to prepare it. Yes, sir, that lit me up. Have I tested this? Not yet. But there will be a round two for this route.
What’s the other thing he did I couldn’t forget…He left with the diesel pump handle. We still follow each other on Insta.
Check out this car museum I found along the way.
Sarge and Me
Sarge and Me is a project years in the making with Monaya’s first Defender experience in 2010. Later teaming up with Bishop and Rook in 2018. A celebration of legacy, independence, and eccentricity, Sarge and Me is going on the road. Follow along @mynameismonaya