Seeing that we barely had enough money to eat, we needed to figure out a way to generate some cash. So we found a festival to set up at. We found The Dorchester Arts Showcase. And because it was on the Eastern Shore of Maryland we would re-visit Sharon’s parents, and pick up all the stuff we left behind from our last visit.
The first day of the festival did not go according to plan. AT ALL! We went to Cambridge on Sat. to scope it out and set up that evening for the block party. Glenda and Nan came down and had lunch with us and then took Sharon and the puggles back to Deal Island so I was on my own.
And since I had an hour or so to kill, so I looked for a Pub of course. I found the Canvasback Irish Pub. I saw many drafts and it was a great atmosphere, this was a good find. But before I saddled up to the bar I needed to visit the little boys room. As I approached the bar [note: this was the start of the downhill slide] the bartender asked, “What can I get you?” I replied “Before I order can you tell me where the restrooms are?” [a reasonable request I thought] she quickly snaps back, “Restrooms are for patrons only.” [Okay, I thought] “I will be back to order I promise, but first, I gotta go.” I chuckled. “Sir you need to order first.” I got perturbed now “please just show me where the restrooms are and I will order after.” She paused and was reluctant, at this point I said “Forget it, you have already treated me like a second-class citizen and I will go elsewhere for a beer” and stomped out. She followed me somewhat to apologize while I stomped, “Im sorry sir but we have that policy because there are alot of crazy people around here, you’ll see if you walk the streets.” Thinking to myself “Crazy people? This is a small town on the eastern shore in rural America isnt it? Whatever! Do I look crazy? Well, maybe, I guess I could, I do need to shave and get a haircut.”
SO anyway, I had to PEEEEE!!! I looked up and down the old historic downtown Cambridge and only saw one place to go, the Maritime Heritage Museum. Upon walking in I was greeted by a very nice elderly woman. The museum was free, but there was a donation box, so Karma dictates that I donate a few bucks. She proceeds to talk as I stand attentive with my legs crossed, She continues to speak about the museum so proudly [I am bouncing at this point] and she explained about the founder as if he were her best friend and she feels obligated to keep his legacy alive to everyone. “I GOTTA GO!!!” [I screamed in my head]. But out of respect for my elders I let her finish, and then politely asked “Do you have a restroom I can use before I look around?” And thank God she replied “Yes, down the hall on the right.”, I tried to act civil and say thank you and not sprint, but like I said before “I HAD TOOOO GOOOOOOO!” and finally I got to go. So I thought, “Okay everything is back on track.” I looked around a bit and chatted more with her and then decided I needed to leave and start setting up my artwork.
I found the event promoter and by some stroke of luck I found a perfect spot to park to move my gear into the alcove he had arranged for me to set up at. This was a great spot right off of the main street and had electrical outlets. Things were looking up, right?. Wrong. It was going to go really wrong, really soon.
The DJ setup just at the entrance to my alcove and began blaring music. [Enter the crazy people] Just then a short bus pulled up with the markings [name changed for anonymity] “Maryland State Government Mental Health Facility” and let out about a dozen people whom we are to call “Mentally Challenged” I believe. Well as you can imagine the Rhythm of the music got them dancing, or more like George Costanza would call it “full body dry heaves set to music.” “Is this real?” I ask myself. This goes on for over an hour and I finally throw in the white flag as no sane people wanted to run the gauntlet through that mess top get to my tent. Hell, I was nervous! I could not see anyone in the bunch that could be construed as a chaperone for this group. And they eyed me like a vulture eyes a struggling mammal. One guy kept coming over to tell me a story about something, I literally could not understand a word he said, so all I could think of to reply to the garbled language was “I gotch ya”.
Fueled by frustration I broke down and loaded up the Jeep in minutes. I loaded the car in two trips, I loaded more stuff on my back and in my arms that I believed possible. And as soon as I got the last items into the Jeep, wouldn’t you know it, up pulled the short bus and they all stopped dancing, filed in and were gone in the blink of an eye. What could I do? Unpack and re-set up? Screw that! I guess the bartender was right to assume I might be a crazy person off the streets, after all it looks like the streets are full of them from my vantage point:) So I drove the hour back to the farm of course, gotta know when to cut your loses I think.
The next day at the Dorchester Arts Show went off without a hitch. We got setup in time, parked really close, the dawgs behaved in their pen and most importantly we sold photos! [Now we have money to get the Cruismaster rolling again] All’s well that ends well. I like to think Karma gave me a break since I donated to the museum and listened to the nice lady until she finished.
Now we had to drive back to Gloucester to install the brake pads and calipers so we can head to Lexington, North Carolina. Our next Thousand Trails Park.
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