Yay boo

Ah the roller coaster ride of traveling. Gotta love it. Or hate it.
Yay, all packed and ready, with free baggage included with my new credit card.
Boo, American Airlines says no free bag–take it up with your credit card company.
Yay, walked through the metal detector with two fake knees, no problem.
Boo, stuck on the runway for half an hour.
Yay, nice new jet–smooth ride to Phoenix.
Boo, I’m in Phoenix for two hours.
Boo, I’m in group 5, so will probably not have anywhere to stash my carry-on.
Yay, they will check it for free.
Boo, I forget to take out my sunglasses (foreshadowing)
Yay, me and another big guy are sharing three seats. Room to spread out.
Boo, a Much-Larger-Than-Either-Of-Us-Woman wedges between us, and spreads out.
Boo, a long, painful, nearly sleepless night.
Boo, no coffee or juice on the plane.
Boo, a half hour wait for bags.
Boo, a forty-five minute wait for my shuttle.
Boo, another forty-five minute wait for my rental car.
Yay, As a consolation for the long wait, Jimmy gives me my choice of any car. I take the Buick, because it sounds like how I feel.
Boo, it has Jersey plates. Once again, I get to be a joik from joisy.
Yay, there’s a coffee shop right here on the street with parking.
Boo, the sun is out and I find out–yup–my sunglasses are smashed.
Yay, Foster-Grants are on sale two-for-one in the Walgreens.
Yay, I make it out of Boston accident free.

Pilgrimage: to Plymouth in a Buick
I’m taking the back-road roots-route to Cape Cod today in order to follow my ancient heritage. Elder Thomas Dimock, my great-to-the-seventh grandfather landed in the good ship Hopewell in Massachussets Bay in 1635, and settled briefly in Dorcester, now a district of south Boston. I wonder if they talked like the Car Guys back then? Or how that came about. Seriously. But I don’t slow down here to explore–it’s yucky.

On to Hingham established 1636, where ETD established himself that same year. I bet there was no Trader Joes or Bed Bath and Beyond then. There is now. Finally out of the wretched roads, traffic, and clutter of Boston and into arching trees. Then on to Scituate, where he scituated himself around 1637. They have a nice lighthouse here. 75 years afte ETD was here, two noisy young women with a drum and a fife scared off a British invasion in the dark of night. Awesome move. Fist pumps on that one I bet.

A little further south I stop in Plymouth to see the famous and somewhat controversial rock. Turns out no one mentioned the rock for over a hundred years after the Pilgrims landed and the entire story is based on the recollection of a 90+ year old man who knew some pilgrims. And boy, is it an underwhelming pebble of a thing.

They have a very cool replica of the Mayflower in the bay there. What a wacky looking boat. All the pilgrims today are elementary-school kids without the cool pilgrim outfits. But I did see four wild turkeys just outside of town.

Then on south to the biceps of the Cape Cod peninsula, Barnstable, where Elder Thomas Dimock helped set up town and continued on as a major player for many years. According to a few obscure websites, there is a rock about a mile east of the courthouse in his honor, with a plaque reading “This Boulder is Erected as a Memorial to Elder Thomas Dimmock who with Rev. Joseph Hull Received the Charter for the Land Now Occupiedby the Town of Barnstable. On This Knoll He Built a Fortification House in 1643.” I spend an hour or so hunting for it with no luck.

But it’s comforting to know my bloodline got in on the original theft of lands from the original residents. Well, actually, when you go back that many generations, it turns out ETD constitutes less than one five-hundredth of my heritage. Of course there was some inbreeding along the way, so maybe as much as one percent. But hey, it’s the name–that patrilineal hokum that counts, eh?

Another cup of java and I head on down to Falmouth to meet up with some friends of old friends.