CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY FOUR: THE B AND R SHOW ARRIVES IN BALTIMORE

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THIRTY FOUR: THE B AND R SHOW ARRIVES IN BALTIMORE

It’s Tuesday, September 16, and we are in Delaware City for a few more days, then begin the long journey south to Key Largo for our third winter in the sun. The weather has finally become more like fall, temps in the 70’s in the day and the 50’s at night. The Admiral made beef and barley soup and chili the other night, clear signs that autumn is on our doorstep – or whatever you call the step on to Slow Motion. I probably sound like a broken record, but the Admiral makes incredibly tasty soups. Beef and barley is my favorite of all of them, but his chicken and rice (noodle, or barley) cures everything from the common cold to the blahs to a bad mood. He likes his clam chowder best, and he has planned to make conch chowder for months – he just needs some soup connoisseurs to appreciate the effort and enjoy the results. I’m not a big fan of clam or conch chowder – although the potatoes in the clam chowder are wonderful. It’s always easy to get off on a food tangent living with the Admiral, the Premier Chef of the High Seas and Inland Waterways. When Brenda and Royal visited last week, he made them his signature Philly Cheese Steaks, after first breaking them in with General Tso’s Chicken and stir fry. While in Delaware City, we have been getting the rolls for the steak sandwiches at WaWa – fresh every day. They make a huge difference. I can already see the look of concern in the Admiral’s eyes as we plan our trip south, where there are no WaWas. WaWa started as a big dairy farm in Pennsylvania, then diversified into retail stores, where they sold their dairy products, and now has the best hoagie making operation in the world. But it’s still only in a few states – Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Maryland, Delaware and Virginia. There may be a few outposts in Florida, but none near Key Largo. We will miss WaWa this winter.

We already miss our neighbors, Brenda and Royal, each of whom has a quirky sense of humor – understated, yet hilarious. For two days I walked all over the neighborhoods of Baltimore with them. When we tired of walking, we rode the free Charm City Circulator with every homeless person in the Charmed City – most of whom were either going to the hospital or returning from the hospital. Still, the bus got us to where we wanted to go. It stopped at a lot of places other than hospitals. It took us to the Mount Vernon neighborhood, where the Washington Monument (who knew?) was wrapped in scaffolding. Funny – the D.C. monument was damaged a few years back during an earthquake – do you think when D.C. Washington Monument sneezes, Baltimore Washington Monument gets a cold? While the Circulator was the right price, for the most part B and R and I walked everywhere. We went up and down every block in Little Italy and didn’t miss a cobble stone in the Fells Point neighborhood. Our first trek was to the Federal Hill district, which has the Cross Street Market, where Steve gives you a huge breakfast for less than five bucks. With all the walking, we had to get sustenance along the way – and believe me, we got plenty to sustain us. It was not just Steve’s hearty pancakes (and scrapple) which fueled our energetic pace, but also a few choice gelato shops and a Chinese restaurant which calls itself “Simply the Best” in Chinese. Oh, did I mention Coffeeland? We discovered this place as we hiked downtown from the Mount Vernon District. Good bathroom.

When you go to Baltimore, start your visit by going to the 27^th floor of the World Trade Center. There is a moving tribute to the 9/11 victims, with special focus on the Maryland residents killed by terrorists in Shanksville, New York and the Pentagon. Additionally, there is a 360 view of The City that Reads. You can really orient yourself to the various neighborhoods and the city’s landmarks like Camden Yards, the Dominos sugar refinery sign, the Shot Tower and the screw-pile lighthouse called Seven Foot Knoll Lighthouse.  And if you are fortunate enough to arrive by boat, you can look down at your traveling home tied up at the Inner Harbor Marina. That’s a thrill, especially when it’s dwarfed by the 130 foot yacht of the Ravens owner, Steve Bisciotti (no, not the pancakes Steve). It’s called Winning Drive, something that the Ravens did not have in their debacle with the Bengals. The team of former NFL running back Ray Rice (suspended indefinitely) did not run the ball well. And their defense gave up the “winning drive” to Cincinnati in the last two minutes. You could look it up. That didn’t stop Owner Steve from partying with his crew at the Rusty Scupper (50 yards from Slow Motion) after the game. What weird music – one minute, mariachi, the next minute, Middle Eastern wailing. Maybe that’s the sound of defeat.

B and R wanted to visit Philadelphia for a few days, so we took off on Slow Motion early Wednesday morning (6:30 a.m. – crack of dawn) and cruised past the tall ships which were arriving in the Inner Harbor for the weekend celebration of the 200^th anniversary of the writing of the Star Spangled Banner. The Chesapeake Bay was very calm, the weather was perfectly sunny and breezy, and we passed through the C and D Canal without encountering any car carriers or other behemoths of the ocean, arriving in Delaware City in about six hours. This gave us time to go to Crabby Dick’s for a late lunch/dinner. Royal took the restaurant’s name to heart and ordered a half dozen steamed crabs. The platter on which they arrived nearly took up our whole table. The crabs themselves were covered with Old Bay seasoning. We were the only folks in the restaurant at the time, so Brenda, the Admiral and I were Royal’s audience, as he fiercely tore off claws and bit into the bellies of the crabs. We got some good photos, but you really had to be there. This was not My Dinner with Andre. This was a crab feeding frenzy. It’s great when one person can get so much enjoyment out of a meal. If this wasn’t the highlight of Royal’s visit for him, it had to rank up there with the top five experiences he had while visiting. I got a lot of vicarious pleasure out of watching him plow through his crab tray.

Delaware City is a small town, very small indeed. However, this summer it added Cordelia’s Bakery on Clinton Street, and Cordelia’s provided us a breakfast to talk about on the way to Philadelphia. B and R had the baked French toast, and I had a warmed sticky bun with nuts. I could have had the sticky bun grilled in butter, but that would have been excessive. My sister Sue makes delicious sticky buns, and Cordelia’s rendition of this decidedly Pennsylvania/Delaware treat is every bit as sticky as Sue’s. But it’s the dough – you owe yourself a sticky bun, if you haven’t already indulged, just to fill your mouth with the most heavenly dough – a little chewy, but cloud puff soft and oh, so flavorful. You guessed right if, by this time in the B and R visit, you guessed that we needed to walk several miles every day just to keep unwanted pounds off.  I knew that B and R would find excellent eating emporia in Philadelphia as well, and I expected that they would be walking off the pounds visiting the Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, the Franklin Institute and the infamous South Street (where all the hippies meet).

The Admiral and I drove B and R to their hotel in Philly, then headed back to Slow Motion for a day of rest – for me anyway. We had been running and gunning for more than a week. I just wanted to sleep. Or read – something stationary for change of pace. Slow Motion got our attention while in Baltimore, when we noticed a smell of fuel. Sure enough, there was a very small drip from one of the fuel lines. The Admiral spent a day in the Inner Harbor getting the necessary repair done, so we could return to Delaware City. But when we got back to that marina, he lined up new fuel hoses and enlisted trusty marine repair person Greg to make sure we didn’t have any more drips, ever, from any fuel line. The Admiral fixed Slow Motion, while I read and slept and ate chocolate salt water taffy. This is why the Admiral is the Admiral and I am the aspiring navigator (who still can’t tie the clove hitch).

That is not to say that I am totally passive when it comes to boat repairs – that is not true. As a matter of fact, I drove all over Glen Burnie Maryland on Monday, September 8th, toting Brenda and Royal in the rental car, looking for the Cummins Service Center so I could pick up two hose elbows at 10:30 p.m., which were needed for the fuel line repair. What a trip that was! I pulled into the first huge warehouse at what I thought was the correct address and Royal and I banged on about a dozen doors and locked truck entrances. Finally, a guy let us in and we asked for the parts – he said we were at the wrong warehouse; the right one was next to this warehouse. At night, all huge warehouses look alike. But we persevered and drove to the next gigantic warehouse, where the guy was actually waiting for me. I had called the emergency number for Cummins, and the answering service had contacted the Cummins boss in Bristol, Pa. (10:30 at night), and he had called the parts manager asking him why he wasn’t opening the door to the woman who had been banging on it for 10 minutes. Never mind that I had been banging on the wrong doors at the wrong warehouse. Anyway, I appreciated the boss’s efforts to get the parts guy outside his building to look for me. It all worked out. I got the parts, and there would be an even happier ending if the hose elbows had not been too big. So now I get to handle the return and the refund. It’s the effort alone that has earned me the title “Aspiring Navigator”.

This whole misadventure in Glen Burnie to get two non-fitting elbow hoses late at night would have been a total disaster, except that I was still feeling the glow of the scintillating conversation from the members of the dinner party assembled by Royal at a restaurant in Silver Springs. We dined at the Urban Butcher, recommended by Felix the go-to guy at NPR for Latin music. Royal knew him when he was a news photographer for the Fresno Bee. Felix’s wife, Barbara, had worked for Brenda the Examiner in SF, but has since gone on to an indescribably delicious career in traveling the world – first class – and writing about it – for money! She offered to take Brenda with her to India for three weeks, staying at a four star hotel in Delhi. She lamented that she had asked years before to go on a backpacking trip in India, and she was turned down, so the four star hotel was somewhat of a disappointment compared to the excitement of backpacking. Having read “Half the Sky”, I don’t know if I would venture to any part of India, either backpacking or in luxury. India has so many young women coerced into sex slavery – there are some courageous indigenous women trying to free women from this “trade”, and I am in awe of their energy and tenacity. Still, I choose not to visit countries which treat women and girls badly. I’m stuck in the U.S., which does not have a stellar record on gender equality, but we’re making progress (ever so slowly). I do not want to pour tourist dollars into a country where girls are forced into arranged marriages or are kidnapped from their small villages and dragged to large cities to be exploited as prostitutes.

But I digress. The rest of the dinner party included Barbara and Felix’s 18 year old son, Alexandro, Jim and Penny Rison, and Brian ____. Jim writes about the CIA for the New York Times. He is facing contempt charges and jail time for not disclosing a source to the U.S. Government. Brian edits and writes for the International Herald Tribune, which was bought by the NY Times and apparently has lost its “brand” – so he is now a NY Times scribe too. For fifteen years he worked in Paris for the International Herald Tribune. In a former life, Brian and Jim both worked on the same daily newspaper in Fort Wayne, Indiana with Royal. There were two daily newspapers in Fort Wayne at the time, and theirs was the liberal one. They had some good stories to tell. Apparently, Jim was not a city crime beat kind of journalist, but excelled (excels) at uncovering widespread corruption or malfeasance on a regional and national level. In an article about a gang-style execution on Fort Wayne streets, Jim is reputed (source: Royal) to have started the article: “Foul play is suspected in the death of John Doe, whose body was found lying face down with 6 bullet holes in his head and back.” The NY Times must have seen some merit to this mastery of the understatement, because they plucked Jim from the CIA beat at the Los Angeles Times to cover any and all “foul play” at the CIA for their sophisticated readers. Seriously, jail time for not revealing your source? Attorney General Holder makes the decision whether Jim should be jailed. If you treasure the First Amendment, look into this sordid chapter of Big Government versus The Free Press, and write a letter to AG Holder and your representatives about keeping our press free and out of jail cells.

While the items on the menu at the Urban Butcher were tasty, the food for thought was even tastier. Thank you, Royal, for arranging this adult entertainment – a dinner party where every single guest is a great conversationalist, who can go from what the kids are doing now to global climate justice in 60 seconds.