One time in the late fall, we had the little motorhome we were taking the last trip of the season before we winterized it for the year. We went to the Cape for the water. We pulled up to the campground where had a confirmed reservation to find “CLOSED FOR THE SEASON” and no one around.
So we got out the directory and from the pay phone on the side of the closed camp store, I started calling other campgrounds.
Every one had the same story “Closed For The Season”.
So we were both pooped so we went to the local KMART and parked over night. (She was scared that we get arrested. But she was tired too.) Next morning we wake up early. (She wanted to get out before the cops came.) And, we had “neighbors”. Three other rigs parked nearby.
So, we had bfast and as other came out she went around and “ran for office”. She had a knack for talking to everyone.
She comes back to report that “everyone” is heading home. It was cold during the night and everyone was afraid of a hard freeze. (Some of our water froze during the night.) So, since “everyone” was heading home, it was decided that we should too. (Temperatures in the following two weeks were in the mid 70’s. But it COULD have frozen.) Perhaps, she was keen on not being in a campground. Maybe if we’d parked in a Macy’s lot that would have been more upscale?
The plumbing was balky, so we rigged for travel.
Dumm de dump de dee, over hill and dale, tiny roads thru tiny hamlets, it was excruciatingly slow. Finally it’s coming to dinner time. I’ve had enough of this. I see a sign for the Barnstable airport. “Gotta be food by an airport”.
We pull in to a podunk airport. You knew it was an airport. More planes parked there than cars. Looks like a dive. But that was OK, we didn’t look much better.
I find the “airport restaurant”. It has a sign. “END OF SEASON. Last night tonight until the spring. Prix Fix $20 per person. Hours: 6-8”. It’s about 7:45. She’s says: “too expensive”. I say: “Feed me.” Discussion about hours to go. How much can we eat in 10 minutes. Where will we find something else. How far to the interstate. Yada yada. Feed me won out. So we go in.
Now remember we “camping” and we look it. No showers, not much water, Clean clothes, but we looked down on our luck.
We go in and right there is a maitre d’ in a tux. And, the joint is empty. Zero people. She pulls me to leave. The fellow says “Thanks for coming.”
She says: “Too late?” He says: “We were waiting for you.”
She agrees we go in and sit down. She chats the guy up and finds out his son is in the USAF and that his daughter is going to college on a basket ball scholarship. He apologizes and says “… all the have is stuffed lobster surprise …” I say I don’t like crab; he’s says not stuffed with crab. “You’ll be surprised.”
Few minutes later out he comes with two plates. Each with two of the biggest lobsters, I’d ever seen to that point in my life.
Our Girl tasted the “stuffing” and declared it was lobster chunks.
Got the check, it was $40 and marked USAF discount 100%. So we left a 40$ tip.
That made the trip.
She told everyone.
The next spring we went back. The restaurant was closed. We never found out what happened.
But every time we had to try a strange restaurant and we had mixed feelings about it, one of us would chime up “Barnstable Airport”. And, in we’d go.
Never found another place like that.
Guess we also never looked as scroungy either.
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