Sept 6 -
All we wanted to do was get across to the other side of Massachusetts. It seemed like a simple plan; we could have been
in Boston in two hours, tops. But no, we quickly got sucked in by the touristational pull of the Massachusetts flair
for the weird. They seem to like paper mache. It's not even nice paper mache. It was a contest of the
disturbing -- as in the nine foot shit-beaver proudly displayed here -- which made our day the adventure that it was.
Our first stop was the Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival. We had pillows in the car and everything. We were pumped! We
didn't know who this Jacob character was, but we were sure he was a hoot to watch, flinging those pillows around... As
we got closer, it didn't look as fun as the name would suggest. "Where are the pillows?" we kept asking. Maybe
they were closed for the season. Maybe the pillow dance was nightly rather than daily.
If we can all take a step backwards, when you read "Jacob's Pillow Dance Festival", do you expect pillows? We sure
did. Turns out, the name of the stinkin' town is Jacob's Pillow. So it's the Jacob's Pillow / Dance Festival. Not
the Jacob's / Pillow Dance Festival. What a friggin' let down. We moped back to the car.
Now, we're trying to conduct a nice, honest roadtrip here. We rarely speed and we've never undertipped,
unless it's deserved. So that's why we feel compelled to admit that today we committed a felony. We broke into the Nash
Dinosaur Tracks park.
Well lookee here. This certainly adds another dimension to the Persian debate. According to the owners of Kristina's Kafe & Bakery in Belchertown, they say a Persian is a HONEY BUN with MAPLE ICING, topped with WALNUTS.
We need to show 'em what a real Persian is! Someone in Thunder Bay, please mail a 6-pack of RASPBERRY persians to:
Kristina's Kafe & Bakery
37 State St, Box 879
Belchertown, MA, 01007
The parking lot was deserted except for one car. The sign outside said Open Please Honk, so we honked. And shouted Hello.
And circled the building. And peered in the windows. No one showed up to let us in, so we crawled under the fence and had
a little look around, intending to slide two dollars under the door on our way out. After all, when were we ever going
to be back to Nash?
The answer came swiftly once we were inside: Never. The only really positive thing we can say about the place is "Perhaps
they had better stuff in the gift shop." We couldn't even figure out what to take pictures of, besides the paper mache
dinosaurs of course. So, one could say the we haven't violated any copyright laws by posting the secrets of the park on
the web. The only crime we committed was not paying the admission fee (the fee being its own crime, so we're even).
So, if you folks at Nash Dinosaur Tracks would care to open your door next time someone honks, you might get a nicer
writeup next time. Or, at the very least, four dollars that could be put towards more paper mache to add some
musculature to that skinny guy's legs.
And we brought pillows n' everything
Pray for the people who trim the hedge
Betty and Kristina of the faux-persians
Cornholio shops here!
|more photos in the archive... ||
You know the routine.
Winter Island Campground
It was like camping at the Thunder Bay Marina. Aimee kept her shoes on in the shower. The factory in the background is the Salem Sewage Plant. We strongly recommend never staying here.
|Shared:||Three rolls with Rasp. Jam|
|Lunch: ||Kristina's Kafe|
|K's Order:||Shredded Steak Sandwich|
|A's Order:||Grilled Cheese|
|K's Order:||Leftover Noodles|
|A's Order:||Leftover Noodles|