Leo 9°

So we got to Islesboro in the afternoon, brought in our bags, then went food shopping. We were eight people total and dinner that evening was going to be easy, pasta with meatballs and sausage in red sauce my inlaws brought and we made an arugala salad with tomato and some cheese that was in the fridge about which others were skeptical. I thought it looked fine, perhaps a little wet, but i shaved off outer bits and below that tasted fantastic. We had beer and wine for those who like that sort of thing and it was fun, for sure.

We had seen signs coming in from the ferry—anywhere driving on Islesboro you have to wave at the person driving in the opposite direction along any given road. Typically a little upward unfolding of a few fingers from your hand resting on the steering wheel is enough to register with the other driver.

We sort of created our own polarized expressions for when we’re here. And, for realz, its quite a polarized place, the north part of the island being largely inhabited by locals and then John Travolta’s estate, and on the southside is where you find more blueblood types. There are two food shops, the fancier one of which likely be the least fancy in your town; the other one looks like a museum of dead canned foods. The fancy people we all the Tooks because, at certain events, more than one person would be called Tookie. So it stuck. The other side of the island (read:tracks) folks we can Durks, names for their downscale food market Durkees.

The Fancy gathering we spoke of where the Tookies lie? It is the annual dog show, held on the same day as the Durks favorite annual do—the seafood festival and go-cart race. I wanted to like the later last year when I opted for it over the dog show, to which all the rest of the family went; but on some level I felt the whole time I was taking my life in my hands. First of all the food, or what was left of it, was not something I was going to eat. And then the races are held in the street which, given the location, is already narrow and two passing cars would have to dip to get by each other.

And you have to park your own car first along that road and then walk up to all these doings. But then you realize you’re also on the go-cart race track and about to get mown down by the competitors.


Typos happen—I don’t have time or an intern to edit.*

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