Today Is My First Day On Martha’s Vineyard: Rain, Rain, and…More Rain

Nothing like the fresh Ocean smog, seagul poop, and the smell of diesel exhaust to start you trip off right.  Well that was exactly how I started mine.  It must be one of life’s little rules that you will never, ever be on time for an airplane or boat.  If there is some mode of transportation that will depart with our without you, 9 times out of 10  you will be late for it, or at the very least scrambling to get on it.  Not to mention you won’t ever be dressed appropriately.  If its 30 degrees outside, and you’re bundled in a parka and snow pants trying to catch a fight you can bet your ass your gate will be on the other side of where you are, down 7 concourses, 4 escalators, and one of those fast walk way things.   By the time you’re at your gate you will have sweated out 13lbs and continue to sweat all the way to Houston.

Such is how life works.  Well for me, getting on a boat was no different.  I figured “sea weather” well that means that it will be cold (yarrr mattee, tis a bitter wind on the open see…yarrrr).  Wrong, wrong.   I hate to admit that the gentleman with a sailboat belt and lobster embroidered sear suckers had more sense than me, but I was sporting a hoody and jeans, not to mention carrying a 40lb bag of dog food, a backpack, laptop bag, and 65lb pitbull in tow.  Cue the beads of sweat that didn’t stop til, oh about now.

Anyway, my island packing session consisted of shoving every t-shirt I had.  Apparently I had it in my head that Martha’s Vineyard is a tropical paradise in early June.  No need for things like “long sleeves” or “a coat”.  Well its 55 degrees out and raining, I’m in an outdoor office and I’m freezing my nutties off.

So yes, good people I’m here freezing cold bringing you blogging gold, because I’m the Fat White Guy, the blogger who cares.  Not much else to write about.  I’m living with a retired police officer (Gary) and right across the street is my office.  I bought a 1986 Ford Bronco to tool around in all summer.  The only thing is this is seriously a “Chester the Molester” car.  I handed in my insurance and title and all that jazz, and the woman behind the counter looked at me and said “Should I issue the Amber alert now, or after you walk out the door and drive your tan on tan Bronco down the highway?  You’re move, sir” In retrospect, I guess the “MGNS LAW” vanity plate was in poor taste