I’m in Pleasantville. Yup.

Last night I saw the NY City skyline! For the first time! And then I got off at a different exit and headed down the turnpike to Atlantic City. Boo. West Atlantic City, actually, which is not the glitzy, tired but sparkly, sand-crusted seacoast town of story and song. Nope. It’s not even really West Atlantic City. I’m in Egg Harbor Township, in the town of Pleasantville, which — despite the fun movie of the same title — is not all it’s cracked up to be. As you see below, It’s more like any coastal town in Washington… industrial, slightly empty, and apparently devoid of both warmth and stuff to do.

Where is my bursting red rose!

Last year we were here in July and actually went wading in the Atlantic Ocean. That may not sound huge to anyone else, but it was my first time on the East Coast (save a 2 hour layover in Boston about 6 years ago). Even with that trip last year, I didn’t realize till now how close everything is over here. “How far to NYC from here?” About 4 hours drive. “How far to Philadelphia?” About 3 hours. “DC”? Maybe 2 by train. It’s kind of driving me nuts, being so close—so close!—and having no time to go anywhere. Who knows when I’ll be back?

Sorry… this all sounds totally cranky. But I lost a whole day to travel yesterday, got three hours of sleep, spent all of today in a government facility, and my hotel view is of another dinky hotel across a sprawling parking lot. (Granted, you can see the water from the other side of the building…) And it’s cold. And I forgot comfy shoes.

Ok, Ok… even I can’t take the whining. I promise to write about something fun on this trip. In fact, I promise to make something on this trip fun. Yup. That’s’ the plan…

I need a pick-me-up too, Toby.

I need a pick-me-up too, Toby

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Addendum: Sooooo much better. Just went out for dinner at Pistol Pete’s Steakhouse and Saloon and had really excellent BBQ ribs and homemade chicken soup. Look at the Giant Hat!

Pistol Pete's of Pleasantville

Diggin' the hat.

How could that not cheer you up? And our waitress was a fun mellow mix of rockabilly (tats, winged liner, bouffant under her requisite black wicker cowgirl hat) and down home (somehow didn’t mind it when she called me honey, darling, and dear), with just a sprinkling of that unmistakable Jersey accent for flavor. Just perfect for dispelling my geo-social dyspepsia.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s