I love road trips, and traveling solo. People often ask me, "Aren't you afraid of staying alone, especially at night?" No, I say. I take precautions around safety and cherish my solitude. I've stayed in remote cabins, Canadian hostels, dunes campsites, dingy hotels and luxury resorts. And most people I run into are kind and helpful. This hit home again last week on Cape Cod. I arrived at our Dennis Port rental house a few days ahead of my family. It was our third time staying at
Georgia's Hideaway, a block from Nantucket Sound, owned by our friends Peter Brooks & Nancy Okowitz.
After about an hour of unpacking, reacquainting myself with the house, turning on lights, I went outside to bring in the last load from the car. And promptly locked myself out of the house. I left multiple messages for the owners, then went searching for the spare key. No luck. An hour passed, and I was stuck outside the brightly lit house, with my purse inside and the house key on the kitchen counter. My cell phone was almost dead, but luckily I had my car keys on a lanyard around my neck. Once darkness settled in, I drove down to the beach and let the car charge my phone while I listened to the surf. I later learned that the owners were out of town and busy all evening, so I didn't hear back from them for several hours.
Back to the house, more hunting for the spare key, and double checking the windows to see if I could find an open one. But no, the previous renters had followed the instructions and latched all the windows. Finally, just looking for commiseration, I called George and let him know my plight. My pillow and bedding were still in the car, so I figured I would just bed down in the back of my car and snooze til I heard from the owners. George didn't like that idea, and encouraged me to get a room for the night. He had his credit card ready so I could pay. I didn't think that was necessary, but told him I'd go see if anyplace was open nearby. It gave me something to do, so I drove a block down to the oceanfront properties.
Most were closed for the season, one was closed for a staff party, but I did see lights on in a B&B down the road,
"By The Sea Bed & Breakfast."
Knocked on their office door around 8:45 p.m., and the owner came dressed in her housecoat. I explained my plight, she invted me in, offered me a room, but said I should call the police and ask them for help. Again, that seemed like too much trouble. Before I could protest, her companion Marie was dialing the police ("We know them all," she said). The dispatcher wasn't sure they could help, but she agreed to send an officer over to the house to check it out. Helen and Marie sent me off with their business card and made me promise to call them with an update.
Buoyed by their kindness, I went back to the house, charging my phone as I sat in the driveway, then welcomed the officer. Seeing my Vermont plates, he asked what town I was from. Hearing Burlington, he said he's an alum of Castleton State in Southern Vermont. Small world. He checked all the windows with his giant flashlight. I remembered one that had looked less latched, but it wouldn't budge when I had tried it. He said, "Let's take a look." So we scoped out the window, and he had an idea how to open it. Not to give away police secrets on how to break into a home, let me just say that in less than 5 minutes, I was inside!
After profuse thanks to the young man, I called the owners to leave them a new message: "I'm in!" Of course, Nancy O. called me not ten minutes after I was back in the house, so now I knew where the spare key was hidden. Then I phoned By The Sea, and told them my happy ending. To celebrate, they invited me out to breakfast the next day. Turns out they had no guests to serve, and Helen's brother, Dino Kossifos, owns a popular breakfast spot in Harwich Port. Over delicious home fries and eggs, I heard stories of how the Kossifos family from Yonkers NY came to own By The Sea more than fifty years ago.
So what started out as a woman traveling by herself, locked out at night, turned into meeting locals and gaining some new friends. No, I'm not afraid to travel alone. I continue to be amazed and blessed by the kindness of strangers. And I'm tickled to share a few scenic Cape Cod shots taken in the leisurely days following my action-packed first night.
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| George and I took a dip at this beach on balmy October 18th |
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| No beach crowds in the off season |
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| Stately copper beeches line the walkways of a local park in Dennis Port |
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| Discovered the secluded Mill Pond Park in West Yarmouth |
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| Happy golfers after 9 holes at Cranberry Valley Golf Club |
Turner's game-winner coincided with a tumultuous weekend in our lives. George had a raucous dance party on Saturday night at Club Metronome. Drew came home from Boston for the event. Our Colchester house was on the market and there was yet another showing scheduled for Sunday. We went out to brunch to vacate the place, and the TV in the restaurant/bar repeatedly replayed Turner's famous shot. Lo and behold, on Monday we had a signed contract and a closing date of April 14. Another miracle, except that now we had less than a month to move!
Fast forward to December 16, 2013 - another weekend of family changes, again with a little help from Evan Turner. We were helping Drew move from Boston to Durham NC to start a post-bac program at the Duke School of Nursing. After loading the 12' Penske rental truck in a snowstorm on Sunday, she and I got stuck in traffic for several hours Monday evening near New York City. We were driving tandem, me in the truck and Drew in her trusty 2000 Corolla. To pass the time I turned on a NYC sports radio station, and heard Evan Turner's name. His pro team, the Philadelphia 76ers, was playing the New Jersey Nets. Unfortunately they were getting trounced. Turner was their star player, but he couldn't do anything right that night. I wanted to reach through the radio and tell him to "relax and let the game come to you." But I relaxed instead, and let Drew navigate us away from the I-95 gridlock. I listened to the rest of the game as we headed southwest through Pennsylvania. The 76ers lost by 40 points. Ouch.
