Circumnavigational Bluegrass/Sea Oats

Well, I am recovered almost from my circumnatigation around the Cheasepeake, which, like Columbus, I really didn't mean to do, but which actually occurred over 16 grrrrrrrrruuling hours last Saturday. Pete had to be deposited at Annopolis, where apparently they have many boats and an Academy, and which also apparently wasn't really six hours away from Hatteras.

Somehow I forgot to notice on the last trip how far away Hatteras really is for a poor boy in NE PA. It, unlike many things in life, turns out to be really as far south as it appears.

I was hard-put to get that boy there, I can tell you. They had more traffic down around DC in more different kind of ways than that couch-boy there, Rain-man's brother, has moves on a futon.

Anyway, I got Pete there at 4 oclock, which is my low point, according to both my circadian and crepulcular rhythm's, respectively.

Not that they don't argue which should be first. That's perfectly natural. But being subverbal entities, I didn't need to worry about it so much, because, in my code, the "squid was on the beach."* However, I soon did grow worried when I looked down on the map and I realized that it would be twice as quick to go home than it would to go back down to Hatteras.

I was sad. I couldn't go back the way I now realized I should go, I was awe by myself, and I had no tunes. So I did what any good bluegrasser does, and I stopped at a "Royal something-or-other" place and got some really pretty good chicken and some cold ones and I had one of then cold ones and about twenty-seven chicken legs, which are the preferred road food of this Rambler**, as you can flip those legs out the window as slick as snot on a doorknob, and then I stopped at another place and I bought me a new CD player, since my old one which costed me 33 bucks crapped out and I was stuck listening to a choice between Garrison Kieler and some static-y cuts of "Bennie and the Jets."

That's when I discovered that I left my CD case back in Hatteras, thinking no doubt that I would wile away the time with the picking and the grinning.

Alas, it was not to me. Curse you Garrison, for having me say things like that to you, as your programs are entertaining and, some might argue, enlightening. Mostly curse the NPR for not shaking down the big money body parts people who dominate the air-ways so we could all get more air.

They're gonna be so surprised, them big-wigs, when someday we don't have any more air. I bet they're gonna get all p*#@+!! off and ask for some studies or fines or something.

I'd like to be around then, and see what they have to say. Yeah!

But anyway, I went all the way around the Cheasepeake in 17 hours, drank 36 cups of coffee, the smell of which kinda turns my stomach right about now, and I am glad and grateful that all the many travellers I have known and met these past two weeks--hundreds of them!--have been reunited, each with their own.

Sweeter than that, I took the final for my law course and I am certain I did not fail. If I did, I will cite Madison vs. Marlpole, Tinker vs. Repressive School District, and of course Liston Vs. Clay as my witnesses, if any indeed are still alive.

Well, after my nautical adventure, all I can say is what Walter Winchell said," Goodnight America, and all you ships at sea."

*Yeah. It's amazing the way I can just pull out the monikers like that. It's a curse, as "Mr. Handsome" would say.
**God help me if they invent steaming hot and crispy scrapple sammiches. I'll weigh like seventeen hundred pounds.