Can We Live Outside of NYC? Rhode Island Says: NO

In the spirit of all the zombie movies that are due to come out soon, I thought I would relay the zombie run-in KM and I had during our Forcation (Forced Vacation) to Rhode Island. Basically, we wanted a vacation that would provide us with the essence of nature, but that still involved running water. We found a "vacation cottage" in Rhode Island for pretty cheap here, and, a car rental and a google map later, we arrived for a long weekend. Unfortunately, we forgot that everywhere within driving distance of NYC is the suburbs. The cottage was fine, albeit decorated with the taste of a Midwestern schoolteacher and nestled along the same stretch of road as an Applebee's and a Super Stop n' Shop. We had a lovely day in Providence, strolling along and looking at houses built in the 19th century (we knew this because the person's name who built it, say Josiah Hamburg, 1852, for example, is printed in a plaque on each house). We did, however, run in to large groups of college kids, who all seemed to be talking loudly about how much pot their friend smoked, or how they never studied but didn't care, or how they couldn't believe what their friend did last night. Since KM teaches college kids on occasion, there was much eye-rolling among our group of two. Running into people kept ruining our vacation.

The next day we decided to tour scenic Newport, RI, where the main attractions are sailboats and really extravagant mansions built by the Vanderbilts and other filthy rich tycoons around the turn of the century. As we toured the mansions, the audio guide kept referring to this as the "gilded age". I thought it was more like the "throw up gold all over" age. The mansions were actually pretty fascinating to see, merely to marvel at the excesses these families went to to show off their wealth. Their is an entire mansion made of marble, for example, or entire rooms filled with statues of greek gods, or french royalty, or "sun kings". KM's favorite parts of these houses were the huge kitchens where we heard that french chefs threw tantrums and poor servants had to toil away washing dishes while the family played billiards or something. I am pretty sure she was just eyeing the cooking space in envy. My favorite part was imagining the family secrets being revealed by a young, arrogant son in the breakfast room or the verranda, or the crystal powder room. Perhaps one of the Vanderbilts was a transvestite or otherwise socially deviant and was forced to reveal his preference by the cathedral-like windows rimmed in silver, ice cubes tinkling in his glass of scotch. I guess the mansions kept turning into Eugene O' Neill plays for me for some reason.

The most interesting thing about the mansions though, and Newport in general, was that unbeknownst to us, it is a mecca for old people. The 70-plus set, to be exact. Old, white people. Old, white, pinch-lipped tourists in beige coolats and mauve tunics. As soon as we started driving around it dawned on us that we were probably the only ones under 60 on these tours, which made us feel slightly foolish and very rebellious. We both said later that we felt like our parents had forced us to go to this land of AARP zombies, which caused us to act like we were teenagers, especially in the "gift shop" where older women browsed like slow-moving cattle across a plain of tchotchkes, baubles, and marble house paperweights. We should have made some sort of effort to shake things up, like talking loudly about dildos or practicing african dance on the tailored lawns, but honestly the atmostphere was too depressing to do anything but glance at each other in horror everytime we passed a glazed-eyed tourist fingering an applique purse. Lest you think we are assholes, we tried to smile and be friendly in a this will be weird but fun! way when we first arrived. However, when KM bought our Mansion tickets, the woman not only took her sweet time, she didn't say one word to either of us and possibly appeared to be sleeping and/or in pain.

We high-tailed it out of Newport slightly depressed. If this scenic town could fail so badly, could we have fun anywhere outside of New York City? Sure Stop n' Shop is convenient, and it's funny to eat at Friendly's once, but eat at Friendly's once, shame on Friendly's. Eat at Friendly's twice, shame on us. In our attempt to "get away" we had been drawn back in to the unearthly flourescent glow of suburban america that we both felt we narrowly escaped from in the first place. So Rhode Island, thank you for the memories, but thank you more for the lesson. Next time we want to go on vacation, we'll save up our money and encase ourselves in a fancy hotel in the middle of Manhattan.

Here's KM when we first arrived at Friendly's for breakfast on the last day of our trip.





.....this was taken after five minutes



-KE