“Martha’s Vineyard is now infamous with my son, who describes it as ‘the most painfully boring place on the planet!’”
Martha’s Vineyard is a small, scenic island off the East Coast of the USA. To get there, you must board a Ferry at Cape Cod, which is between New York and Boston. It is most famous for being the location where JAWS was filmed. It is also infamous with my son, who describes it as ‘the most painfully boring place on the planet.’ My good friend from GE, whom we shall call ‘Uncle Bob’, had bought a house there in 1993 and invited me to visit. In 1997, I arranged a trip for my family and me.
This trip took a serious amount of planning. First, we flew into Philadelphia and spent the night there; one night was more than enough! After an abysmally poor breakfast, jostling with extremely rude hotel guests, we took a shuttle back to the airport and boarded a small prop plane to Boston. Once we landed, we got a coach to Cape Cod, and from there boarded the ferry to Martha’s Vineyard. My children were not impressed, and I don’t blame them! As soon as we arrived, we were greeted by Bob, who showed us to his 4×4 and helped us with our luggage. We then drove to his lovely house in the middle of the forest. Martha’s Vineyard does not have a single big-name franchise on it anywhere on the island, as decreed by the local populace. This is great for some, not for my two pre-teen children. I wish Bob had made me aware of this months before booking our ‘adventure’.
We were there for a week, and Bob took us on many interesting outings. The first was dinner at a local lobster restaurant, which we were initially thrilled about. Sadly, the thrill vanished after the first bite; this was the worst lobster I have ever had in my life. My son made a decent attempt at disposing of pieces of shellfish, secreting them under parts of the shell or a used napkin. He nearly got away with being finished until Bob leaned over and pointed out how much more rancid lobster flesh was still left to consume. It was at this point that our cover was blown as he said what we were all thinking, “I’m full now, and this tastes like salty shite!” Bob was not amused! I was, though and couldn’t help but agree!
Our next outing was for breakfast, a meal we as a family really love, especially in America! We had been lucky enough to holiday there several times and had visited all sorts of pancake places and diners where the breakfasts were enormous and so, so damn tasty! My children had visions of Denny’s and a fat stack of pancakes, and I myself was looking forward to some steak and eggs. We were in for a shock. We pile into Bob’s car, and he drives us further and further away from what passes as civilisation on this island. Coming to the coast, we drive up to a lighthouse perched on a high point where the only other surrounding buildings are a couple of shacks and cabins with some picnic tables outside. The wind at this point is absolutely horrendous, made worse by the altitude and proximity to the raging Atlantic beneath. Expectations are not good at this point, no Denny’s, no diners, no sight of any other customers. Still, we are all hungry, especially after last night’s dinner, so we decide to try and keep an open mind. Bob parks the car in a dusty lot and leads us up to a large, steamy cabin. This is the point my son once again perfectly voices our collective thoughts.
‘What the fuck is this?!’ he mumbles. Bob doesn’t hear his pertinent question and instructs us to go to the window and order. ‘Order what?!’ My son asks, another valid question, as there is no menu to be seen anywhere.
‘Just ask them!’ Bob grumbles back gruffly.
As we talk to the man in the window, it becomes swiftly apparent that this may be another lobster fiasco. And my children’s patience is dwindling rapidly; mine wasn’t doing too well either. Luckily, they did cheeseburgers, which everyone loves, so we ordered a couple whilst Bob went off to talk to some locals he knows. We got our burgers and sat down on a bench, clinging onto them for dear life. As soon as my son unwrapped his burger, the wind took the top bun, which he did not find amusing at all. My daughter clung to hers tighter, only to discover the roll had a thick layer of green mould on it! This was the point at which my wife had reached her limit and promptly heaved the mouldy burger into the sea. She then stated to me that if Bob didn’t find us an actual restaurant with walls and non-mouldy food, then he would be the next thing getting booted into the Atlantic! I held my hands up and went to talk to him, only to find him tucking into a delicious, steamy cup of clam chowder, something that we all would have enjoyed had we known to order it! Bob finished his chowder, which I also quietly ordered, and my children shared a semi-edible burger from the remaining pieces. To this day, I cannot mention Martha’s Vineyard without this experience being mentioned. We swiftly left the point, and Bob drove us into town, where we visited a tea room that was actually really nice. My family filled up on tea and cake, all of which were devoid of mould, I’m happy to say! Bob’s wife, ‘Janine’, cooked a lovely dinner that night, but it wasn’t enough to erase the scars from breakfast. I don’t think they will ever truly heal!
We went on two more adventures after this. The first was just the four of us; we got a Ferry to Nantucket, where we toured the whaling museums and the docks. We then found a seafood restaurant and sat down for a lovely meal where the fish was literally carted from ship to table. The freshness was unforgettable. A stark contrast to the lobster in Martha’s Vineyard!
The last adventure was back with our illustrious tour guide, who wanted to show us Chappaquiddick Creek, a landmark made notorious by a girl dying suspiciously in one of the Kennedys’ cars. The story goes that the motorcade went off the bridge, and the girl drowned in the creek. The water went up to my children’s ankles, so how this occurred remains a mystery. It’s not like a US president would lie, would they?! This trip was probably the most amusing for us, though, due to Bob’s unique charm and interactions with the locals.
To start, we pulled into a gas station, and the extremely friendly attendant chirped at him ‘Howdy folks, y’all hear for some gas?’
To which Bob replied, “Well, what the fuck else would I be here for?!”
The attendant looked mortified and hurriedly ran off to get the pump, whilst Bob received an elbow in the ribs from his wife next to him. My children were pissing themselves with laughter. Once the tank was filled, we roared off towards our historical destination. For all the lack of decent eateries, the island is very scenic, especially the countryside we found ourselves in. As we head along what passes for their highway, we see three young lads riding their bikes. Having the time of their lives, not a care in the world, probably off to the beach. As we pass, they wave and smile, my children return the greeting, and the leader of their three-man biker gang gleefully howls out, “I’m the king of the road!”
Bob leaned out the window and, in a tone more fitting if one of the lads had spat at his car, yelled, “Yer a brain dead wee arsehole!” and then gunned the engine hard.
At this point, I don’t know which was louder: Ginny’s embarrassment, Bob’s angry breathing, or my children laughing. As we approached the creek, we stopped at a crossing so two old ladies could walk across. Evidently, their slow shuffle was not meeting the speed that Bob required, so for his final act of kindness, he decided to help them on their way with several loud beeps followed by shouting out the window, “Come on, ladies, sometime today, please!”
At this point, my children are crying with tears of laughter at the uncontrolled and completely unnecessary outbursts of Bob’s untethered and seemingly limitless rage. When we finally reached the creek, my son said it was worth it just for that journey!
This brought our Martha’s Vineyard experience to an end. The next day, we flew from the island on a small propeller plane, direct to Boston, where we boarded a plane home to London.
“I am never going to that piece of shit island ever again!” My son said as we flew home. To this day, he has kept his promise.
The reason I thought of this story was due to the enormous amount of planning it took to get there. It also taught me a valuable lesson in adaptation; how to respond when the plan not only falls apart but when the destination is far from expectations. Lessons that have stayed with me in my professional and personal life. If you would like to know more or book our services, then please get in touch via our contact page.
