I debated whether or not I should even do a reflections post on this mini trip, but after ruminating on it decided that the people must surely demand such an essay. Yesterday I had my first working flight since our little vacay, and my first officer said he had just flown with another captain that I knew well who said, “Oh Brian? He’s always in the most remote corners of the globe.” “So where were you recently?,” asked the first officer. “Rhode Island,” I replied. He laughed.
So sure, it’s not Mongolia, but (arguably) easier to get to. At press time, there is technically only one direct flight to Rhode Island from Los Angeles and it’s a red eye. Mongolia would require two flights, but in order to avoid a redeye, Rhode Island does too if you want to look at it that way. It was my first time in Rhode Island after 41 years of the travel life. In elementary school they teach you that Rhode Island is the smallest state, and was therefore the most difficult to tag onto when playing on the painted outline of the U.S. map during recess. That was the extent of my knowledge of such a state.
While a washout on our last day basically turned Watch Hill into a ghost town, its actual existence is not much different than that for 9 months of the year. However, during the summer months, Watch Hill goes hard. Growing up in Wisconsin, where we technically also had beaches, I can’t really think of an equivalent to this sort of environment. Massive crowds queue in line to get a $18 sundae at a place that didn’t even have that great of reviews. $17 to walk onto the nearest beach. $60 to park to go to the beach. $30 for a lobster roll. A day at the beach is an expensive proposition.
Fortunately, by being situated in the middle of the very small town, we didn’t have to worry about parking or any of that nonsense. I imagine it being a very stressful day out for everyone else. And yet thousands of people seemingly have the same idea to come here. I’m not even sure if they are Rhode Island folk or from other places — but surely not beyond New Jersey or New England. Because at the end of the day, if you wanted to go to a nice beach and you lived in say…Connecticut, you would probably get on a plane and go to Florida or California or even Hawaii. But getting on a plane can be an ordeal. More on that later.
Beaches in the northeast take on a whole life of their own in these months. I remember it being kind of a weird vibe when I first biked to the Jersey Shore during college. People had these “shore houses” that they’d spend maybe a couple weeks out of the year in, yet pay a fortune for the privilege to do so. When I did go into the ocean there, my feet went numb from the chill. I didn’t venture into the water whilst in Rhode Island because a rogue wave hit my ankles at one point and I screamed out like Mickey Mouse.
In places where summer is short, people seem to really go all out for the beach life, whereas the folks living in a place like Miami Beach are finally relaxing after the exodus of these very same New Englanders and Jersey folk who invaded their beaches during the winter and spring. There is something not super relaxing about being on a beach filled with hundreds if not thousands of other people, but this experience is highly sought after in the Northeast. I’m definitely an outsider to this. Because for previously mentioned reasons, it’s not cheaper to go to the beach in the northeast. For what you would spend on a shore house, or a day out in Watch Hill, you could fly to a better beach.
But I suppose that’s not really the point. It’s not all about the beach — though that is where the highest concentration of people were. Rhode Island had many other charms. Lighthouses! Windmills! Endless land with no development! There is something to be said about that and a quaintness that goes along with it. Even when we returned to New Jersey after a long drive in the rain, we found deer prancing around the suburbs, but it’s not the same level of quaintness as the Island of Rhode.
Of course, leaving New Jersey is never an easy task because most people want to leave New Jersey. Most flights on the day I needed to depart were oversold, or had a ton of standbys. I waited patiently at the counter to snag a flight deck jumpstart of a 787-10 at the very last moment. At the end of the day, it was a better seat than 47K or whatever they were going to give me if a seat opened up. I enjoyed a mediocre United meal enroute home. Late July, early August is just a horrendous time to travel because people seem to be getting their last hurrahs of summer before keikis go back to school and nor’easters/hurricanes/snow start to hit the northeast.
Despite the cheeky words I have written on this page, I did actually enjoy my brief time in the northeast. I found it relaxing to just chill for a spell — enjoying the rooftop deck and people-watching from relative safety — just like Taylor Swift must do. The culture of the northeast just perplexes me and always has. This is not to say they’re doing it wrong. Maybe I am the fool by leaving a perfectly good beach down the street to then leave a massive carbon footprint by flying to the Maldives, Seychelles, St Barths, Bora Bora, Guam, Hawaii, etc. So perhaps what I’m saying is that of all the people that have graced the beaches of Watch Hill in the last few months, I may have the most in common with Taylor Swift.
passports & pepto bismol 