The bulk of our second day in New Hampshire was spent lounging at a small beach that was just a short walk away from the cabin. The day was warm but not too warm. We had the beach all to ourselves, a cooler full of beer, and some tunes going on a Jambox. All in all, it was quite conducive to kicking back, relaxing, and even pondering some deep philosophical questions. Together that day on the beach, my friends and I determined the following:
- Breathing is the best!
- Not breathing is the worst!
- If, for whatever reason, we should all be trapped together and need to resort to cannibalism, I would be eaten first. I posited that, since I’m a vegetarian, I’m likely to be the tastiest. Besides, if I were to start eating meat again after more than 25 years without it, I’d prefer not to begin with one of my friends. Alas, I’m small, so I’d be little more than an appetizer. Everyone agreed that Jerry, the largest member of the group, would be next on the menu.
Perhaps these do not seem like particularly profound thoughts to you. Fair enough. I think we might have been more successful in our philosophizing if it hadn’t been for the Jambox, which after about 15 minutes at the beach, began complaining that its battery needed to be charged. It continued to play music for a good couple of hours, interrupting every few minutes to whine about needing a charge, thus disrupting our sagacious musings. Surely, we would have solved most of the world’s problems and pinned down the meaning of life that afternoon if it hadn’t been for the Jambox.
Later that day, we astonished ourselves when, despite the slightly panic-inducing ratio of 1 bathroom to 8 people, we all managed to shower and get ready quickly enough to arrive almost half an hour early for our dinner reservation. None of us were quite sure how this happened, and I highly doubt it could be repeated. After dinner, we returned to the cabin for some Cards Against Humanity and tastings of some of Ian’s home brew. There were some tense moments when we discovered that one amongst us (I’m not naming names, but I’m giving the side-eye to Angela) hates penguins, and we had to considered whether we should continue to be friends with her. I mean…who hates penguins?? They’re adorable and look like they’re wearing tuxedos, and their lives are narrated by Morgan Freeman! Later, she indicated that she might have been thinking of ducks, but I think she was just trying to backpedal to avoid persecution.
The next morning, I decided it was time to dazzle everyone with my inability to properly operate Keurig coffee maker by brewing an overflowing cup of hot brownish liquid that tasted like it once might have been near coffee. Ah well, even if I fail at coffee, I’m probably delicious, and at least I’m not a penguin-hating weirdo. Soon after that, it was time for Ian and I to bid our friends goodbye and set off on the next portion of our trip. Cambridge ho!