“Wait, you guys were serious about this?” my boss laughs as I tell her we are off to our second Burger Club meeting.
“Yeah, I’ll show you the minutes tomorrow,” I jokeas I depart her office. Another head shake and laugh as she waves goodbye.
We all convene at the F train – this week we’re venturing into another burrough, crossing the Manhattan bridge to run around Brooklyn in search of our next burger. 5 Napkins is going to be a lot to live up to.
“Grits Grill?”
Our travel paraphernalia, which was strewn about various points in the room just an hour ago, has now been packed into our respective travel bags.
“We have to.”
We drive across the street this time, our bags bouncing in the jeep’s enormous trunk. We are served by a taller version of our last waitress and this time I get my grits with cheese on top.
Although there is a 10 hour drive ahead of us and it is almost 11 am, we have some other unfinished business left.
“Grits Grill?”
“Let’s do it.”
He spotted the diner yesterday in the strip mall across the street from our hotel. We may be in a total tourist beach town but we are still in the South.
“If you’ve never had grits before, now is the time,” he tells me as we get dressed. He is more excited than I am at the prospect, perhaps because he knows what we’re in for. Clouds are gathering this morning and we are crossing our fingers that they pass on through when we are ready to jump into kayaks this afternoon.
We had stayed up late the night before, poring through the free tourist magazines and ogling over all the seafood we are about to consume. We find ourselves flipping through the magazines again as soon as we are up. We are up early, unusually early. The sun is almost blinding us through the sliding doors and I pull out the granola purchase from a random grocery store as the magazine pages whiz past my hair.
“I’ve never had oysters. Or clams,” I proclaim as we encounter the third ad for Awful Arthur’s Oyster Bar.
“Well you’re about to have them now,” he notes. More flipping. We trade magazines and continue to rifle through. “Everything here is early bird specials. Like, show up between 4:30 pm and 5 pm and get 20% off.”
“Hmmm,” I ponder. “Well, I could eat that early. I bet we could arrange our eating schedule appropriately.”
He agrees. “We could skip breakfast. Mostly, ” he starts, eying the granola bag, “then go hang out at the beach for a bit, eat lunch early, and then be hungry in 4.5 hours.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I smile and kiss him as I go to change into a bathing suit.
I told him I wanted three things for by birthday:
- To get out of New York
- To go to a beach
- To be served food and drinks constantly, oh and 3.5 no planes, I want to go on a road trip.
The night before we leave, he asks me if I want to take a look at the guide book for where we are going. “There is way too much to do here, I figure you might want to help narrow it down,” he says as he hands me the computer.
