"Where Cathy Adores The Minuet, The Ballet Russe, And Crepe Suzette..............!"

                                       You know that is me, girls, so I am here to tell you, our Cape May trip on Saturday was far from a minuet.  I am going to chronicle this journey out of sequence, because I want to illustrate, first, the highlight of the trip.

                                          It was on the way home, when we pulled into the Grover Cleveland Service Station, on the Garden State Parkway, near Woodbridge.  I always love stopping at these cheap, sleazy places, because then I get to see truck stops, with real live truckers and prostitutes.

                                          One trip I saw one climbing into, then getting out of a truck. Saturday was even better.

                                            David and I were sitting at a table.  I was sipping a Diet Coke, David had  some of mine, but he did not seen hungry.  I noticed behind us, there was this cheap looking woman sitting behind us, and I knew right away what she was up to.

                                               The blonde hair had not seen a comb, shower, or conditioner, in days.  She was dressed in a slim, orange hooded jacket, and white, unclean patterned toreador pants, with the ankles showing so much they had dirt smudges on them.  And she was not wearing socks, just cheap white sneakers, probably worn.  So, I knew what she was up to.  She never saw me.

                                                 But, suddenly, this trucker guy, not bad looking, clad in a tight blue T-shirt and jeans, with a pretty hard body, came by her, and sat down.  I think I intimidated him, because he looked at me, knowing I knew what he was up to.  Maybe he thought I was an undercover cop. So, he distanced himself, but sort of hung around the area.  Either waiting for me to leave, or to confirm I was a cop.

                                                 I guess he figured I didn't care--I really didn't, I was just fascinated.  What was this better than average looking guy doing trolling around here?  He could have done much better, unlike the pathetic and desperate you usually see at these stops, who have to beg the girls for favors!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                                   Eventually, they struck up a conversation, and headed off to the trucks!  But I was happy, to have seen another real live, prostitute!  Only in New Jersey, darlings!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now, as for the trip, as Christine Pedi, as Carol Channing might say, "This was a disaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaster!"

We were the last to be picked up, at 8:15, in Bay Ridge.  The best thing was we were the first to br dropped off, on the way home, and I was ready.  We, and especially David, had been looking so forward to this trip, but things went awry.

For starters, we were in a mini bus.  We had a small contingent of thirteen--hey, a coven!-- too bad we did not cast a spell on the tour guide, who was one of the problems.  The bus had no neck support for the seats, so I was in pain, and, since the bus was so small, there were no shocks, and we felt every bump along the way.  People were complaining.   But it gets better.

Our tour guide, whom some people called Ricardo, while others called him Roberto, was nasty and unpleasant.  When we pulled into Cape May, he informed us that we could go into town for a time, but he would not pick us up.  Instead, the bus was letting us off by the start of the trolley tour--really, the best part of the trip--because we were expected to stay on the grounds of the Emlen Physick Estate, on which there was a craft fair, food and music!

Still, I managed to quickly run into Our Lady Star Of The Sea Church, to say some prayers to the statue of the Virgin and Bernadette!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Physick was a homosexual closet case doctor who only got his degree from U Penn, so he could inherit his father's vast fortune,  After that, he never did a lick of work.  He lived there with his mother, and spinster Aunt Emily.  Uhm-hmmmmmmm!  Wonder what, if anything, he did for action, back then?  He had fourteen dogs.  You don't think...……..?   I certainly hope not!  Those poor dogs!

And he was not much to look at, anyway!!!!!!!!!!!!

So, there I was, with David, forced to eat street food, sit outdoors all day, with hot and cold weather alternating with the coming and going of the sun.

But there was menace, afoot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As soon as we hit the festival grounds, we could hear pleasant folk music in the distance.  I recognized a couple of tunes, such as "Both Sides Now,," and, I think, one of Carole King's songs.

Eventually, David and I sat by a table,  near the gazebo, where the singer stood, and listened to her.  Her name was E. Lynn Smith, and she wasn't half bad; her voice being midway somewhere between Janis Joplin, and Bonnie Tyler.  She even did "Me and Bobby McGee," and it was good, though nothing like Janis.  Eventually, we began to notice all these butch women gathered around us, and the gazebo, listening to her, like groupies.  The woman at the same table carried on like a groupie--and she  had to be in her late Forties, early Fifties.  David saw her point to another woman, saying that was the singer's wife!

Wife!  Oh, my God!  We were infiltrated within a group of lesbians!  I truly feared for our safety!  And our gonads.  While we got no "What are you MEN doing in our territory?" look, as one would at Henrietta Hudson's in New York, we feared for our safety, and our gonads.  But these lesbians seemed more settled and downbeat.  The ones in New York, back at Henrietta's, would have ripped off our gonads, minus anaesthetic, and forced us to eat them!!!!!!!!!!!  If they get a male pet, they fix him right away, so they can be in control.  Who wants to be part of that?

Fortunately, these ladies were more classy than what I am used to.

Wish the same could be said for our driver.  He would not be flexible about anything, and all he did was berate the customers.  This came to a climax on the way back, when a woman on the bus had a meltdown.  As David has said, "What would be an L And M Bus Tour without someone having a meltdown?"  Though, usually, it is a woman.  The one in question complained the driver was going to fast, and she was getting sick, afraid she would throw up.  I was afraid she would, and the stench would make the rest of us sick!  

Then other passengers started berating the guide for their disappointment in the trip.  He fired back, nastily, "Well, if you don't want to come, don't come!"  This, in the middle of nowhere, with no place to go?  This guy's days are numbered with L And M, let me tell you.

His bad attitude is what heightened my anxiety, which I had already.  I had "Final Destination 2" anxiety, but with all the histrionics, it only elevated.  When I got off the bus, I was a wreck, like Kimberly, above.

I related to Kimberly the entire trip.

Sorry, I cannot get you the premonition scenes.  But these pics give the point.

So, that was our trip to Cape May.

But I hold out one hope!

I still have my eyes on this pink house, in Cape May.  And I heard a rumor it is for sale!

Should I start a Go Fund Page, darlings???????????????