Retropost: Drunk Seastreaking and Passive Aggressive Neighbors (Oct2017)

October is a time for pumpkins, so we went pumpkin picking. Also, full moon eeriness. Also, chewy.

Forever and a day, I’ve wanted to take a Fall Foliage tour. Eddie bought tickets on Sea Streak as my birthday gift! We headed to Tinton Falls, NJ the night before so that we could make it on the boat at 7 AM. Only we wound up at the wrong launch, and the lady at the desk told us to take a flier from the wall for directions. The directions were to the place we were already at. I shit you not. After a chat with a nice woman on the phone who clearly gets this phone call all the time, we found the other launch site. In the rain!

We stood on a long line and finally wound our way onto the boat and found a window seat. They served bagels that you could cut and toast on your own. They also served alcohol. People started drinking at breakfast. We got water and watched the spirits unfold.

When we got to NYC to pick up passengers, we realized that getting on in NJ meant we got a window seat while getting on in NYC meant you didn’t, so that was happy times for us. Also in NYC, we picked up our tour guide. If you want to call him that.

The “tour” consisted of his telling tales of when he was growing up, pointing out boats by saying, “there are boats on the water,” and giving us the round-about prices of real estate in certain areas of the city that have either gone up (“we used to run for our lives and now you pay 800000 a month”) or gone down (“now there’s a real criminal element there”).

Really, though, the guide on the Fall Foliage Tour referred to said foliage as either folage or foilage. Yes, he could not pronounce the name of the thing we were touring.

Once we got past the city and Yonkers, the tour died down with only an occasional “Alrighty” or “Ohhhkay” with nothing following it. He said a few times we could ask him anything, and when he was asked about what mountains we were seeing, his answer was, “That’s a good question.”

By the time we pulled into Cold Spring, the sun came out though the fall colors didn’t because the warm weather put a halt on Autumn Leaves. The guide gushed about a place he liked to eat whenever he got there. That’s where he’d be going. We wouldn’t be going there, alrighty?

Cold Spring is a neat little town of maybe three blocks on one street up a big hill. To get to the real town part, you have to go under the train tracks. Fact: You can take the train to Cold Spring. You know, instead of driving to Jersey and finding a boat.

We ate lunch at a place called Silver Spoon and then checked out all the little tchotchke and antique shops. Everything was very small town cutesy kitsch. Then it was time to go stand on the line to get back on the boat.

The waters got a bit rough but everyone was drinking a lot, and I think the tour guide got drunk at lunch because he was just off the rails with telling jokes about the electric chair and Sing Sing and saying Alrighty every five seconds and pointing out the same things he’d pointed out previously. Every time we hit a wave, the drunken boaters would all yell something like HAHAHHAAA! or YIPPEEEE! or YEAY!!! Again, people were drinking at breakfast so with a liquid lunch and accessible bar, it was one long booze cruise disguised as a Fall Folage Tour.

The rough waters didn’t bother me but the being stuck on a boat did. I turned to Eddie and said, I need to get off this boat. He laughed. I said, The next time I  have the idea to get on a boat for any reason, punch me in the face. He made a mental note.

By the time we got back to NYC, however, the waters had stilled and the sun was setting. The tour guide left at NYC and got tips on the way out. Eddie tipped him. Eddie is a good man and better person than I.

Back in Jersey, we hopped in the car and drove home on one of the longest drives home from Jersey. Still it was worth the sights we did see, like the Statue of Liberty, the Freedom Tower, West Point, and yes, even some foilage that was kind of autumn inspired.

Approaching Cold Spring:

Cold Spring,  NY:

Mama, I’m Coming Home (but then driving to Jersey to drive back to NY):

In case you are interested in the live tweets from that day, here ya go:

Having missed out on the foliage, we decided to trim back some trees hanging over our yard. I wrote three letters to the houses that might be affected on the other side of the fence. Our houses don’t line up, so I wasn’t sure whom I should contact exactly. I got a phone call from a very nice woman whose trees actually don’t hang over our property after all. I got no other response.

The tree people came and cut stuff down.

Three days later, I saw this note on the fence:

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These people have my phone number. They could have called. Instead, they posted this by climbing through the weedy foresty rarely used gate and crawling across the dead plants and out of control vines to post this on their back fence. AFTER the trees had been cut. If they’re so worried about our cutting their precious plants, maybe they should TAKE NOTICE of what plants they have considering the work was already done.

FYI: we know how they posted the sign because we have cameras on our property. There was an over-middle-aged lady that did it in her bright white sneakers and matching wind breaker. Seriously.

Moral: Fences make good neighbors but common courtesy does not.

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