My last evening on my trip, I find myself in Bar Harbor. Due to an extremely, extreme hike up and down Mt Katahdin, I find that my legs are quite and utterly useless. I cannot walk, not well anyway. Thus no biking, or any other long hikes, just some quick little ditties in and around the park, etc. So, I spend the next to last day out on a whale watching boat, doing some sea kayaking, etc, non-leg intensive activities. So, I had planned to make the last night a good one, lobster bake, Manhattans, etc, seeing as thought there would have been four days of much activity to celebrate, but, seeing as through there was really only one, no reason not to celebrate right?
So, I return to the shore from my kayaking trip. I was partnered with Jose, the high strung Marine, thus we did some hard core, Marine Corps rowing and kayaking, and it felt good. I felt justified in my decision to hold my last night event.
So, again, there I was. I found myself a nice little table over looking Frederick Bay(?) in scenic Bar harbor. I was hungry, thirsty, and oh so ready for my last meal on the island. The very young waitress came over and asked if she could start me off with a drink.
“You certainly can”, I replied, “Do you folk do Manhattan’s up here?”
“We sure do. Straight up?”
“Yep. Thank you.” She turned to walk away and I called out, “Oh excuse me, can you bring a dozen clams as well?” She sure could.
She returned a few moments later with my drink. “This is a one and a half, just to warn you.” She said as she placed the very large glass on my table. What else could I possibly have said, but “Excellent, Thanks!”
I had left my book in the hotel room, so on my way to the restaurant I purchased The Fall, by Albert Camus. I was hooked by the first page. So, with my clams now on the table, with the waves lapping against the pier, and a wonderful sea breeze blowing through the open windows, I privately toasted myself for a wonderful trip and took a healthy gulp of my drink. Wow, strong. There was no Vermouth. I took a second gulp, the whiskey burning its way down my throat and empty gullet and my waitress returned, all smiles.
“Are you ready to order?” She inquired.
“Yep, I’ll take another one of these”, as I finished the drink, “and if you can add a bit more Vermouth, that would be perfect. And I will take the New England Lobster Bake.”
“Great, I’ll be right back.”
She was, with my second Manhattan. “This one is officially a double and a half.” She said with amazement washing over her face.
“Sooo. You are saying this is already my third drink?”
“I guess so!”, she said with a laugh.
“Thank you again! It looks perfect!” I replied.
“I’ll be back in a minute with your dinner.’
And this Manhattan was indeed perfect. Ahh… god I don’t know why, but I love this drink. There must be something contained in this drink that my body simply craves, aside form the alcohol, for it goes down way too good. My body absorbs a tired athlete takes in Gatorade; like a hungry newborn sucks down breast milk; like the Gods drinking their nectar.
Out came the lobster. With it was some corn on the cob, cornbread, potatoes and another pound of steamed mussels and clams. Oh man oh man was it freaking good!! The waitress came ‘round again.
“How’s it going? Can I get you anything else?”
I could not help myself. “Would it be silly to order another?” I asked.
“Another drink?” she nearly gasped.
“Well, actually, yes, another drink. This was perfect. But I was thinking another lobster.”
“Not at all. I can bring out another one for you.”
“Great!”
She turned and walked away, and I called out for her.
“Oh, excuse me, “
“Yeah?”
“Can I also get a dozen oysters as well?”
“Sure, “ she said through an ear to ear smile.
So, doing the math: two full lobsters (I debated a third), two dozen clams, a half pound of mussels, a dozen oysters, and either three or six and a half Manhattan’s, depending on how you round off.
Ahh… dinner was good.
I left a hearty tip, considered asking the waitress out, but she as too young and it was just the whiskey talking, and then walk out of the restaurant into the Bar Harbor night. I knew exactly where I was heading. I spotted a cigar bar on my walk to the restaurant, so it was here for a night cap.
They had no Autero Fuente Hemmingways, but I found the next best thing, asked for Oban on the rocks, and sat and digested my meal. Turns out another one of the waitresses from the restaurant came in with a friend of hers, and we sat and drank and chatted away. Her friend noticed the book in my pocket and she read the first page and we all spoke about the wonderful nature of passing books around, giving and receiving good books.
They eventually went up stairs to the drag show happening up there, which I had no interest in seeing. Although, at several points in the evening, the drag queens would run downstairs for a quick drink, or to borrow a CD from the stereo, etc. I thought of gift shop paraphernalia, bumper stickers, T-shirts, hats, reading “Bar Harbor: Lobsters & Drag Queens – Perfect Together”
Some interesting sites on my last night at Bar Harbor.
