While mired in my last creatively bankrupt, spiritually crippling job I used to count down the days until my next vacation. But ever since I began my writing "career", trying to get me to take a break is harder then dragging Mr. Scott out of the engine room of the Enterprise to go on shore leave.
Still, when it came time for my better half to take vacation, I really wanted to reward her diligence by getting out of Dodge and exploring some uncharted territory. After much hand-wringing and debate we finally struck upon the idea for a good, old-fashioned road trip. But where to go?
We were quite keen on the idea of exploring the New England states but we didn't want to spend a lot of time in the city. We looked at potential destinations in and around Boston and suddenly hit upon a place that both of us were fascinated with:
Although the shop-keep was a tad overprotective of his wares (everything, and I mean everything, was bagged), he did provide some pivotal clues which helped me track some of the first comic book I ever owned. Despite the fact that we didn't quite zero in on what I was looking for (see next week's post), I still rewarded his diligence by picking up Swamp Thing Volume Five "Earth To Earth". This is a tremendous collection of Alan Moore brilliance which features Swampy's legendary clash with a certain Gotham-based chiroptera-themed detective.
Anyone who thinks that Bangor is aesthetically bankrupt really needs to take a second look. There's plenty of orderly streets, town pride, classic architecture and vintage Americana on display there...
Now, I don't want to make it sound as if the first leg of our trip was all cute bunnies, Ol' Glory and dollops of whipped cream. When we pulled over for lunch at the West Gardiner Service Plaza we had a harrowing close encounter with some volatile wildlife.
On the way back to the car I noticed a moose hanging out close to the parking lot. Since all of us Canadians are blessed with the inborn ability to psychically communicate with these noble animals (think Aquaman but with elk), I attempted to befriend the beast. But as soon as I closed to within ten paces I realized, all too late, that this wasn't the sort of moose I was familiar with. As fate would have it...we weren't the only creature on vacation.
It was that most rambunctious of creatures: the notorious Bostonian moose, who we all know are considerably more aggressive then their Canadian counterparts. Needless to say, I was lucky to escape with my life.