They Come Just As They Go

“Welcome to Vacationland, the way life should be,” is a slogan that lures strangers from afar to this northern state of New England, to explore the great outdoors, the rugged coastline and what Maine has to offer.

The season for a coastal-tourist-town is short lived; it begins early May and ends late October. The town thrives and makes it's livelihood off these tourists. The peaks of the season come in waves.

The spring breathes life back into the village; the shops open their doors and streets fill. They come by road and by see, in car or tour bus, on boats or cruise ship.The official kickoff begins the Fourth of July and continues straight on through, till Labor Day weekend. Autumn dawns the season of the leaf peepers, the newlyweds, and the nearly deads. Harvest season begins, the cruise ships come to port almost everyday, two by two.


All season long they come all on their own adventures, with hopes of catching a glimpse of a moose or a whale, maybe to go hiking and biking, or to shop the streets of an old coastal town. Whatever their adventures may be, all these vacationers will soon grow hungry.

***

At some tables you can’t even get the words, “Good Morning” out of your mouth, and the transient diner barks for coffee. In the restaurant business, you just close your mouth, bow your head, and go fetch. But let it be know, servers are more than just vehicles to the nectar of the bean.

There are two creatures of the dining world:one
“I want two eggs, and toast.” The woman confirms. These are the kind you must pry for information.

Then there are the others:

“I want coffee black and my wife’s with cream and sugar. She will have blueberry pancakes, real maple syrup and bacon well done. I a spinach and goat cheese omelet, wheat toast dry, home fries crispy. Oh and we are on your bus tour of the park, and we need to board in thirty minutes.”

Meanwhile your standing there with one pot regular and one decafe and all you asked was, "Would ya like coffee?"

Transient diners also think that you are their tour guide as well as their server.They, too, will pry you for information, and lots of it.

They want to know, “Where is the closest Starbucks?”

Your answer, “Sixty miles inland.” (You came to Maine to go to Starbucks?)

“Inland? We’re on an island?”

Your answer, “Do you remember the bridge with the water on both sides?”

They want to know why they can’t check their email on their super-duper phones. “Don’t tell me you don’t have a 3G network?”

Your answer, “A 3 G, what? Welcome to Maine!”

This happens all amongst the clamoring and clanging of dishes, and those god damn coffee cups half empty begging to be warmed, the plates grow hotter the longer they sit there dying in the window,and then there is Andy cussing behind the line at all the orders that came in all at once.

When breakfast is all said and done, the upstairs dining room opens for lunch. They sit in the dining room and answer their cell phones and yell into the receiver, telling how they spent their day in Arcadia as they look over the menu. (When in fact they are in Acadia,on the other side of the country.) They see we offer a "Taste of Maine Special:" A boiled lobster dinner.

They want to know, “Well can’t I just have the tail?”

Your answer, “You’re in Maine maim, it’s a pound and a quarter lobster,shell and all!”

“I have to pick it myself?” Some say with disgust.

Your answer, “We offer a lazy man’s lobster, fresh picked lobster meat sautéed in butter or white wine.” (For an extra charge.)

They view of the bay can be seen through the dining room windows; the sand bar exposed at low tide, the Porcupine Islands, and the boats bobbing along in the water. They then want to know,

“What’s the name of the lake out there?”

Your answer, “The Atlantic.”

Then they want to know, “How do they get all the boats to park in the same
direction?”

Your answer, “Harbor Master, Charlie does valet parking.”

Interactions with the transient diners like this continue relentlessly throughout the day. The turning and burning of tables, passing dialogue, filled with questions on each side, repeated questions and repeated answers, and inflection in tone as patience thins either mine or theirs.

The kitchen doors swing open once more. Rushing around through all the chatter, the checks that need printing, the printer that needs paper, the voids, the separate checks, and the ten percenters.

Not all your comments got you as far as you wanted; the directions you gave, the full “Taste of Maine” you just served them, the big smile and flashy eyes. No, still they want more from you; they will pry you for personal information, like those old biddies bugging about babies.After clearing the plates and presenting the check, they want to know,

“What you do in the winter?”

Your answer: “Hibernate, and wait for spring.”

***

The season for a coastal tourist town is short lived; autumn exhales the life out of the town. The shops board up their fronts for winter, and the streets empty.The leaf peepers, the newlyweds and the nearly deads have all gone back to where they came from. They have explored this great northern state of New England with it's great outdoors and rugged coastline.

The peaks of the season come in waves. The harvest is over. That’s just the thing about Vacationland and the way life should be;
They go just as they came.