Climb every mountain!!!

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

My friend Michelle and I have been on many adventures.  

The most exciting, difficult, challenging, rewarding, and overwhelming was hiking the Grand Canyon.  

In the spring of 2002, I flew to San Francisco to join Michelle in driving back home to Chicago.  She’d been there working there for a year, and was going home.  

We left San Francisco, drove down the Pacific Coast Highway, to LA, where I visited my friend Donna Jo. The most memorable part of that visit was how fucking hot it was, “oppressive” to quote Donna Jo.

From there we drove to Santa Fe, to visit a friend, then to Vegas, and from Vegas we drove to the Grand Canyon.  

We checked in to a hotel, knowing that we had to be up early the next morning for our hike.  

We got to bed early, set our alarm and were asleep by 10:00.  

Rise and shine.  We were up and parking at the Canyon at 5:00. 

When we arrived at the top, there was a sign that said, DO NOT TRY AND HIKE THIS IN ONE DAY.  IT CAN’T BE DONE.  

I asked Michelle about this, and she assured me that her friends had done it.  

We walk closer to the beginning of the trail down, passing at least 4 million other versions of this sign. 

I’m assured that it doesn’t mean us.  

And down the trail we start. 

Fun fact.  

We are amateurs.  In the truest sense of the word.  

Our provisions include a back pack, a camera, four bottles of water, and I think 4 power bars.  That’s it.  Why the fuck would we need more water, or food than that.  

Down we go.  Chatting all the way.  We pass a couple of water stations, but we have all we need so we keep going.  

The trail is beautiful and we are bonding as we frolic down the steep incline.  

It was not a short trek down, but after a few hours, the trail flattens out and we are at the bottom of the canyon.  The river is in front of us.  There is a camp ground.  There are people that have passed us, setting up camp.  

We take in the site, I snap a few photos, that are in a box in my bedroom.  

And we start back up. 

Within 30 minutes Michelle realizes that it’s going to be a bit harder than we thought.  We are taking it slow.  And are still having fun.  

However, it’s hot.  And we are drinking our water.  

Soon there is only one bottle left.  I suggest that we ration it.  

And we climb.  And we climb.  And we go slower.  And slower.  And slower.

And soon we are out of water.  

And we climb.  And we climb.  And we climb.  

It doesn’t help that we don’t have a map, so although we are passing landmarks, we have no idea who much further it actually is to the top.  

By this time, I’m getting tired.  Michelle has become exhausted.  

And still we hike.  

Our power bars are long gone.  I’m thirsty, but fun fact, I don’t get hangry.  I can go all day without eating and it really doesn’t bother me.

Michelle on the other hand, needs a sandwich every so often.  

At one point she shouts at me, go on without me.  I’m giving up.    

I don’t.  I walk ahead, then back.    Walk ahead, then back.  

And around 7:30, I walk ahead and discover that we are at the top.

I run back down to her, and say you are almost there.  

And around 8:00 we both crest the hill.  

We sit on a bench.  Exhausted.  

We then notice that there is a visitor’s area with a coke machine.  We are armed with two sodas in no time.  We are sipping our sodas when the bus to take us back to our car comes.  And the driver tells us we aren’t allowed to have beverages.  I assure her that we are breaking the rules today, and she wasn’t happy, but she didn’t argue. 

She dropped us at our car and we drove back to our hotel.  We showered, and then went to dinner, where we laughed and laughed at how crazy it was that we’d just done what we’d done.

And we’ll always have Paris. 

And we’ll always have the Grand Canyon.  

A weekend in the country, would be charming, and the air would be fresh.

I’d like to speak to the manager!!!

It’s the third weekend in July.  

That means it’s the weekend of the Yarmouth Clam Festival.  

That means it’s just six weeks till Labor Day Weekend.  

It means that we are half way through the summer season in Maine.  

And it also means it’s Camper’s Weekend.  

AHHHHHHH.  

That was a chorus of angels singing.  

What is Camper’s Weekend you ask?  

Well.  

Let me tell you.  

There are around 150 summer camps in Maine.

Many of these camps are sleep-away camps.  

Many of these camps welcome kids for several weeks at a time.  

And most of these camps DON’T allow visitors on the regular.  

So.  

One weekend, in the middle of the summer, these camps open their gates and allow parents to visit.  

And that one weekend is the third weekend in July.  

July 19 and 20, 2024. 

And why is any of this important?  

Well.  

Summer camp in Maine is NOT for working class folk. 

For the most part.  

There are subsidies and scholarships if you are a middle class and poor.  

For most of these kids their parents are wealthy.  

Very.

Wealthy.

And I do mean VERY wealthy.

People, from all over the country, ship their kids to Maine for the summer.  

And on the third week of July, these wealthy parents descend on Maine, to visit their offspring.  

And these wealthy, wealthy, stupidly rich people can be very amazing. 

Very sweet.  Handing out money to anyone they come in contact with.   

But far too many of them come to Maine, and they eat in our restaurants, and they are HORRIBLE.  

But how are they horrible you ask?  

Well.

Let me tell you.

First of all, every restaurant in town is booked months out.  

Completely booked.  

But that doesn’t deter these folks.  

They call repeatedly. 

They threaten.

Do you know who I am?

They have their assistant’s call.  

Do we know who they are? 

And these folks, finally get reservations.  

At their first, second, third, fourth choices.  

Yes, they make lots and lots of reservations.  

Leaving it up to fate, luck, and what others are doing as to what reservation they will keep.  

If they keep them.  

Today we had 23 cancellations.  

Most of which were in the last 24 hours.  

About ten of them were after service started tonight.  

We were significantly less busy, even though on paper we should have been crazy.  

But that’s the good part. 

The bad part is how a lot of these folks act when they walk through the doors.  

On Friday night, not one table sat where I had them scheduled to sit.  They walked in.  Looked around and then told me where they were sitting.  

I’m not sitting at a high top.

I’m not sitting at the counter.  

I’d like that corner table in the window that seats six, even though we are just four.  

I’m not sitting on the patio.  

I know I booked a regular table, but there is a lovely table on the patio and we’ll sit there.  

None of these things could happen.  

 A party of four would show up with six, and say, we’ll squeeze, until they realized that wasn’t an option.  

A party of 10 took 75 minutes to be complete last night.   The first guests sat at 5:15,  the last guests arrive at 6:40.  

They let their children run wild.  And I do mean wild.  I watched an 8-year-old, it was his birthday, run into different servers for 90 minutes. 

They are also all gluten free, organic, vegan, dairy-free, probiotic, paleo, pescatarians, who are allergic to black pepper, allium, mollusks.  However, they are gluten free, not celiac, so if you use the fryer that’s okay.  

And ALL, and I mean ALL of their phone numbers originate in New York City and its suburbs.  

Something an employee pointed out last night, is that for the most part, they don’t really enjoy food.  They are quick to order a burger, a pizza, or salad.  Most are not venturing in to seafood, especially raw seafood.  Steaks are preferred medium well.  

And more than anything, they don’t like to be told no.  In fact, they don’t take no for an answer.  

Like never.  

It goes back to do you know who I am?  Do you know who I work for?  Do you know how much I am worth? 

I can buy and sell you!!! 

Friday night, was the worst shift I have had at my new restaurants.  

The host working next to me, kept saying, you’ve got to be kidding me?

Do you have a kids menu? 

No.  

Do you have child friendly food?  

I don’t know what that means.  

Do you have chicken fingers?

No.  

Pasta?

No.

Spaghetti?

No (Spaghetti is pasta). 

How about grilled chicken? 

No.  

How about pizza?

Yes, we have pizza.

Is it gluten free?

Yes.  

That might work.  

This is a conversation I had at the host stand.  Long before they were seated or spoke to their server.  

If you live in Maine, you know it’s coming.  You can’t take the weekend off like we used to do in NYC for Fleet Week.  Or Easter Weekend or any of the other horrible days.  

We all suck it up, take a deep breath and take it like a man.  

I do have to say, that this weekend, this year, was every weekend last year, and the two summers prior. 

So, I really shouldn’t be complaining.  

But I think it’s important to share the fun.  

And, every restaurant in town does well this weekend.  

And by this time tomorrow, every family will be headed back to NYC and we won’t see them again till the third week of July, 2025.  

And I will be sitting in my underwear, drinking Buffalo Trace, which Adam found in the grocery store today, grateful the weekend is over, but also grateful, that it was another banner Camper’s Weekend.