Labor Day Weekend, NH Trip

LABOR DAY WEEKEND SEPT 1st-4th 2006

Began on Thursday night when I dropped my son off at his fathers’ house for the long weekend and I spent that night packing for the BIG trip…

Wondering what to pack, what to wear for the drive up and back other than pajamas? (I normally travel in PJ’s, but I decided on a new all black sweat suit instead) A quick shopping spree was necessary, spending money I don’t have, stopping at a few stores, for toothpaste other bathroom essentials and finally back home to do the laundry for all the clothes I was bringing.

Would it be cold? Would it be rainy? Where would we go out? What was appropriate attire for New Hampshire anyway? To solve that quandary, I packed half of my closet and another suitcase just for bathroom supplies. (I once had shampoo explode in my suitcase wrecking an entire trip, so I always pack 2 bags now…one for clothes, one for toiletries.)

I couldn’t even sleep Thursday night because I was too excited to finally see my high school big sister, LESLIE whom, I have know since I was 12 and have not seen since I was 18 years old!!!

Friday morning, while rushing around making sure everything in my house was secure to leave: windows closed-check, lights off-check, doors locked-check, bags in hand-check,

I left my office at 11:30am and headed out for a much needed road trip. The drive up was easy; thankfully, I did not hit the brick walls of traffic everyone warned me about. Windows were down, music played, hot coffee sipped, cigarettes were smoked, and directions were perfectly placed on the center console… thank you map quest (I am not a cool person with a navigation or GPS system; I am a poor person who drives a Hyundai.)

I have weird and specific road trip rules, one of which is NO STOPS permitted. Gas up and pit-stop prior to getting in my car, because unless we are in dire need of gas (the “you need gas” light indicator has to be on for a good 10 miles) there will be no stopping to eat, to stretch, or to pee.

The scenery became increasingly beautiful as I drove closer to my destination; of course anything is prettier than the industrial plant filled NJTPK I drive on everyday. However, I had no idea how ugly New Jersey really is when compared to other states main highway arteries. (I have been on a zillion road trips across county several times and back, but I don’t think I noticed things like beauty when I was busy being a run-away, at least I don’t remember things being beautiful back then.)

Now, I don’t know if it was because I was dressed like a Ninja, if it was luck, or the sheer excitement that cleared the path, but I made it to New Hampshire before 5pm, without even speeding!

When I arrived, I didn’t get to give the half hour arrival hug I intended, the rules above caused a major bladder back up that needed immediate attention, or that hug would have came with an unusual and un-welcomed little extra!

Once I was in the house, relieved and the bags were in from the car, I hugged the two of them, causing time to rewind 14 years, because it was as if no time had passed even though we had been separated for so long.

I took a tour of the house THEY built. It was an old barn some 300 years old which they converted into a home. Magnificent, the hard wood floors, the windows were surrounded in hand carved trim made by JB himself and a kitchen designed to Leslies specifications. Each room was painted a different color that accented each other. The stair case was my favorite. Hand carved pieces of wood, each different than the next. They were amazing. Like a work of art. (I REALLY WISH I HAD BROUGHT MY CAMERA BECAUSE I CAN NOT EXPLAIN THESE STAIRS AND A PICTURE IS NEEDED RIGHT HERE).

After I settled down, Leslie, John and I, decided to go out to the infamous local “cheers type” bar, called RICKS. Everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew I was coming up to visit. Luckily, I over-packed and had the perfect outfit for such an outing! I was introduced and greeted by Leslie and John’s friends, who were incredibly receptive to my arrival.

There was Paula, a nurse who makes the most fantastic pornographic white chocolate lollipops in her free time. (She gave me few lollipops for keepsakes.) There was Roger, a big-time gun fan, a true Brit, with the best accent that I mimicked all night, and his wife who’s name I forget (OOPS….sorry!) There was chatty Carrie (and her husband who’s name I also forget…OOPS sorry!) whom I found rather entertaining. If Carrie didn’t talk a fast as she did, I think more people would HEAR how funny she is. She is hard to hear, easy to listen to, hard to hear. Being from New Jersey I found it easy to keep up with her quick pace and HEAR her. She had some of the most fantastic stories about growing up in Boston in the 80’s complete with aqua-net hairspray that was applied so much it turned her jet black hair white with a thick film on the frizzed out 80 bangs-do. She also apprised me of the time she hit puberty, got boobs, and realized she was ripped off when it was only a nipple that never matured any further! I wish I had a pen and paper, when talking with Carrie, because I would have LOVED to be able to quote her verbatim right now. There was the BARTENDER Craig, 24 years old, Kick-Boxing champion, smarty, that corrected my grammar and speech any time I spoke while he was within ear shot of my conversation! There was Jerry the ever-so-aging bachelor who’s one true girlfriend, wife and love of his life: CORVETTE (as in the car) who was the NICEST person to talk to. Jerry = Witty and Charming. There was Jill, a woman who was by all accounts not welcomed / liked by her friends these days as she has turned into some wench no one can stand and subsequently I was not introduced to her. There were the most adorable waitresses, Kimmie, is the one I remember best, because she is a blusher and turned red at most of the jokes that were told at our table. It was such a fun night. So much fun in fact, we were so loud, that we got a few people flagged…. (ooops….sorry!!)

Friday night we got home at god-knows what time, when Leslie, the ever-so-gracious host, wanted to set up my sleeping quarters. She had this aero-bed inflatable mattress that went up on a frame as to keep me from lying on the floor. Which was great, comfortable and would have accommodated me, but for the fact it had a slow leak.

Now, I am not a pet-person. I am not anti-pet, but, I am scared of dogs. I was bitten by a tiny poodle when I was 5 years old and have been terrified of dogs (even a puggle) ever since. Leslie and John have pets, 2 cats and not one, but TWO, Rotweilers. Two of the most well behaved and obedient dogs to walk the face of the earth. Which did not console me as the mattress deflated and I would now have to take one of the sofa’s in the living room, which belonged to the dogs! I would have been scared if the dog was a beagle, but it was a Rotweiler x 2!!!

The entire night I laid still and stiff as a board while both dogs watched me. One (Harley, the boy dog) slept on the next sofa next to me. I was in the spot on the sofa that belonged to the other dog (Sugar, the girl) and she let me know just how annoyed she was all night long. Sugar decided if I was going to sleep in her spot, she would keep me up all night! She was digging into the carpet with her nails making scratching noises, coming close to me and smelling me, circling around me and low whimpering. I would not move for two reasons: One, I was afraid that she would bite me, Two, I was afraid Sugar would re-stake her claim to the sofa! When it was finally light outside, I forced myself to make it to the bathroom and decided to stay in the dining room on the de-flatted mattress.

Saturday morning came early with pets that needed to be fed and walked and chocolate raspberry coffee brewed, as I wiped the sleep out of my eyes. Leslie made breakfast burritos while I got ready for the plans we made the night before at the bar with Rodger and Jerry. We were going to the SHOOTING RANGE. City (me), was about to meet Country (New Hampshire).

I have never touched a gun, saw a gun, or held a gun, in my life. I was a virgin for the first time at something! We finished getting ready and headed over to Rodger’s (the Brit with the great accent) house. Since you can’t have a weapon in England and you don’t even need as license in New Hampshire to buy a gun, Rodger has been fascinated ever since. He has become quite the marks man! Rodger has even taken special classes in tactical training, sniper stuff….So, who better to show a virgin how to hold, load, and shoot a gun!

When we got to Rodgers house, we were taken downstairs to the GUN ROOM. It’s a special room in the house, with key pad entry, climate controlled, locked cabinets and huge amounts of ammunition. I was suddenly nervous. All the shit talking I had done the night before in my mock country accent was now reduced to, “Umm, I dunno if I can do this…Umm, this is kinda, scary… Umm, wait… Umm…” (Nice sentence) I was reassured that everything would be fine, I would have people to help me, I would not be left alone to my own devices to pull a Dick Cheney.

Rodger took out 6 or 7 different guns. Most were shot guns or rifles (I have no idea about the difference between a rifle and a shotgun) there was a 16 gauge something a 20 gauge something, a long one, a big huge one, and my favorite, the MACHINE GUN assault weapon. (AK something or other).

Then, Rodger drew a diagram of the TRAP range where were we going to shoot orange colored flying clay objects. He explained the angle in degrees as to the way the pigeons would come out of the trap house, how to aim and gave me a lecture on gun etiquette, of which, I did not hear a single word because I was eyeballing the size of the bullets that were laid out on the table.

Soon after the verbal lesson, it was my time, my turn to learn hands-on, picking up the gun and trying to hold it. Guns are HEAVY and require a great deal of strength from your non-dominant arm to control the weapon. I have not used my left arm for anything other than holding a cigarette, trying to lift what felt like a 100lbs gun was nearly impossible at first. It took 20 minuets of me picking it up, having to put it down, shaking out the numbness in my hands, loosening up my shoulders just to hold the damn thing. (Of course, as soon as I was given the lightweight semi-automatic machine gun to hold, I had NO problems, I would have been able to run holding that…figures only I can go country urban style) Then, it took another 20 minuets until I could hold the gun still without dipping the nose to the floor and able to load a single bullet.

THIS is the one I HELD:

Alas, we were not going to a firing range for target practice, nor, would I be like
Jodie Foster in the movie Silence of the Lambs (One day, I really do want to do that, shoot the shit out of a hanging paper man with a 9mm, I do think every woman should know how to fire a gun.)

No, we were going to the shooting range, in the woods, outside, with people who shoot for sport weekly. Right…….. I would look really nice standing in a group of 5 (4 being men with good aim and then me) while the galley of looker-on-er-s is behind me wondering if I will ever hit any of the bright orange 25 flying targets I had a chance to. No way. No how. No thank you.

But, I was in too deep now; I had to go for it. We saddled up in the cars and drove on over. I padded my right shoulder with washcloths so the recoil wouldn’t leave a bruise on my right boob (which was very expensive and thank fully insured). Scared, nervous, and praying in my own head that it would rain any second, John came up with a great idea. Practice shooting BEFORE actually going up on a block in front of people on the TRAP range! Yeah, that I could do!

We arrived at the range with the soothing sounds of bullets echoing and ripping through pottery, causing me to reflex JUMP every time I heard the sound. I lit a cigarette and puffed hard. Rodger singed us (Leslie and me) in as guests to the gun club, and told us to suit up. Eye protection is required, so I wore the glasses Rodger gave me that were so big
Nicole Richie would have been jealous, and plastic ear muffs.

I was still hesitant, but I proceeded, through the wooden barrier, and through the car wash looking plastic doorway into the training shooting range (separate from the TRAP range). Rodger announced to everyone there that I was a first-timer and to disregard and or ignore me, hopefully I would not be a bother to those actually shooting AT some target.

After five minuets of summing courage, Rodger stood behind me, help me load the bullet into the chamber, let me cock the gun, lift the gun, aim the gun, and …..FIRE……

BOOOOOOM, it was LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUD, and HAAAAAAAAARD!!!

The recoil was so hard I almost, almost, almost FLEW back, while thinking, “Oh, that’s why Rodger kept telling me to lean forward…..”

I started laughing, squealing like a kid, I did it, I did it, I did it. People looked at me like I had just escaped an institute and they had the guns in hand that would easily persuade me back to said locked up facility. I immediately shut the fuck up and placed the HEAVY gun down.

Whew! A few breaths, a few shots off by Leslie, a former gun champion back in her southern days, and I wanted to do it again, and again and again.

I have to admit, it was one of the FUNEST things I have ever done. I would definitely do that again, however, I would much rather do the, Jodi Foster FBI agent HAND GUN shooting, after all I would never go hunting, but knowing how to use a hand gun would be handy in the event someone broke into my house.

After a few more shots, Rodger agreed that I would never be able to AIM at anything because my arms (much like the rest of me) were too short to reach and hold a gun of this length the right way. I couldn’t square off in my stance and aim either, due to large DD breasts that get in the way of everything, including a golf swing.

I was relieved of TRAP shooting. I would not have to stand in front of people and make a fucking asshole out of myself… Even if I did do it, even if by some miracle I did HIT a target, my reaction would have been that of a dizzy young teenager who just kissed her first boyfriend, and the audience I was in front of would not have found that behavior “cute”.

After Leslie and I watched the boys shoot a few rounds, she and I left them at the range while we went for a drive back to home to get ready for dinner and alone time to talk.

That night we had steak, corn on the cob, regular salad and potato salad a real country home cooked meal (fabulous)! I don’t know if it was the rainy weather that was heading in, the fact that I had NO sleep the night before, the adrenaline rush of shooting guns wearing off, or what it was, but I was exhausted Saturday night. All I wanted to do was stay in, maybe take in a funny movie. So, that’s just what we did.

You MUST see this movie, if you haven’t already, especially if you have ever worked in an office….OFFICE SPACE… I need to buy a RED Swingline stapler and then my life will be complete!!

After the movies, laughs, pop-corn, conversation and butts, it was bed time. This time we set up a different air mattress, UPSTAIRS, in the office, away from the dogs. The result was a much better night’s sleep!

Sunday the rain came and it was time for me to leave in order to beat the traffic, thus allowing me to have Monday at home to unpack, do laundry and spend time with my son, before having to return to work Tuesday.

I had a wonderful time, not enough time to be with such beloved friends of mine.

I will end this post with my hat off to New Hampshire…

Indoor smoking!!
Cigarettes are $3.75 a PAC / $30.00 a carton
There are no helmet laws
You do not have to insure your vehicle
There is no sales tax on anything
NH is BEAUTIFUL
Pumping your own gas
Selling Alcohol in the SAME store as eggs
No Income Tax