Lighthouses

I drove on cool and content after the pleasure of a dip at Surf City. Knowing I had no real deadline and no nagging agenda, I just coasted. I meandered. I daydreamed. I sang along to silly songs in the car with the windows down. I drove one-handed, one arm hanging out the window getting browner than the other. I passed quaint sounding towns and streets with funny names and I wondered about the meaning behind them.....Slaughter Beach, Butt Station Road, Croaker, Henpeck Road, Chicahominy, Witchduck Street, Robin Hood Road. On and on until I hit the loose strand of the northern island towns of North Carolina. My grand lighthouse was on this sandy sliver of beaches and resorts. Somewhere. The handy little GPS refused to help me out, but the map put me squarely in the area. I decided to get a place for the night since it was late afternoon already. (You know.....cause of all the lolly gagging.)

I wish I had known that the entire population of upper North Carolina hated the canine species. I could have easily snipped this upper corner of my trip off without a thought. I could have avoided driving in circles for nearly two hours stopping and asking very politely if dogs were allowed at this or that establishment. If I had known before I arrived that the area was anti-pet, anti-best friend, anti-Poe I would have trimmed that stupid huge lighthouse from my plans. Screw Nags Head, Kill Devil Hills, all those silly snooty named tourist traps. You're no Surf City! SuperPuggle and I have better places to be. Like Elizabeth City, an hour and half inland, where two very nice Indian folks felt sorry for us at 8 o'clock on a rainy night. They didn't even look at us like we were as haggard and as grumpy as I know I looked. I bet they wondered why I had a swimsuit on and still had sand clinging to my shins even though we were 100 miles or more from any water besides the heavy rain outside.

This is the night, in my room with crickets in it, at the Travelers Inn, that I realize my camera is a sputtering seizure of gritty mess. That's okay, I didn't take pictures of those intensely blooming mimosas swarming atop those metal palaces surrounded by day lilies anyway. And as far as I know you can't capture any dizzy sweet smells on film just yet. All is well. The day is still saved.