The Four Funniest Women on the Planet Live in Wiscasset, Maine.

Driving into Wiscasset from the same direction I had the day before, I knew what to expect. I knew where the parking was, the shops, the real estate office and the nursing home - all the things I needed. I parked in front of the wine shop and saw a paper stand through the open door. I wanted to check out the real estate prices in the local paper since I couldn’t find any in the little rag-mag, it was 50 cents. Naturally I didn’t have any cash on me so I tried to charge the 50 cents, and the sweet girl behind the counter said I needed $9.50 more to use my card. She didn’t even roll her eyes at me, but I think that’s because she knew I was kidding about the 50 cents.

I picked out a bottle of organic red zinfandel from California. I figured I’d save it for my next camping trip and split it with my stuffed moose, Amerigo, that I got in California. I grabbed the paper and then hoofed over to Red’s little stand because I was starving. I was craving a lobster roll SO BAD for days, just like I had been wanting fish and chips since Vermont until I got it in Portland. I marched right up to the window and asked what the market price was on lobster was - $14.00!!! No matter how much I wanted a lobster roll, I couldn’t buy a fourteen dollar sandwich. So I got grilled - not fried - haddock and a bottle of water. (I’ve noticed myself getting a lot bigger since I left Maryland because my diet went to hell.) and settled in to read the classifieds on a picnic table overlooking the water.

While I was waiting for my sandwich I watched the other customers go up and order from the sharp lady in the window. She was middled-aged but gorgeous in her polo shirt and baseball cap. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail and her big blue eyes were shining as she greeted every customer by name or by "honey". She spoke very quickly and called the orders very fast. She made everyone laugh when a family she knew approached the window to order and she said to the father, in a thick New England accent, "Hi, how are you?! Are we getting L-O-L-L-I-P-O-P’s today?" She said it so fast, almost like she had broken out into song, and caught everyone off guard as they struggled to catch up. After a few second’s delay, everyone giggled.

Once I got my food and opened the paper, I liked what I saw. The prices on apartments were cheap and so were the going rates on 4x4 trucks, which I would need to make it through the tough winters. The only thing missing in this town was proximity to a college. Honestly, I’m not thinking of moving anywhere just yet - I’m only getting ideas on what looks good and has what I need. Namely.... someone. Someone for me, that loves me. For real. At this point I’d go anywhere to find it as long as it was real. But anyway, back to Wiscasset...

So here I am in Wiscasset and I finished my sandwich in record time and did not allow myself to get ice cream and poked around in the little antique shops instead. I’ve gotten very good at a game I made up that I call Furnishing The House I Don’t Have In My Mind. It’s great fun, the only bad part is the empty feeling it leaves you with when you realize you don’t have anyplace to put that gorgeous lamp. And that Civics have interior ceiling lights so you don’t need it anyway.

I walked around the little shops up the other side of the street and then I popped my head into the real estate office. The friendly woman behind the counter beckoned me in as I said hello. She could tell I was an out-of-towner because she was as well - she had actually lived in Silver Spring, Maryland for years before moving to Maine, about 25 minutes from my childhood home.

I have to admit, I told a fib during our conversation. I told her I was engaged and that my fiancé and I were interested in moving to the area (I figured she’s take me more seriously if I said so). Everything else I was honest about - not being ready to move or buy yet, looking at grad schools, "our" (my) budget. I also told her about wanting to work in civil service in some capacity and she said there are a lot of gerontology jobs available in the area, which was great.
We worked out a system where she will email me listings and I’ll tell her if I like it or hate it, until she gets an idea of what my tastes are. Then we’ll go from there. I like that arrangement - and I really like Wiscasset.

What I don’t like is that the whole town shuts down at 8 pm. Not that this was a problem while I was there, because I was long gone at that point in the evening. But it would be insanely frustrating if I lived there, especially after being spoiled in New York City.

Seriously, there is nothing like saying to yourself at three in the morning, "I would like to buy a chocolate doughnut, a jar of olives, and a tube of Krazy Glue RIGHT NOW!" and not only can you do that, YOU CAN GET SOMEONE TO DELIVER IT TO YOUR DOORSTEP! Anything you want, you can have at any hour, and usually without leaving your apartment. McDonald’s? Open 24 hours and they deliver. KFC? Same thing. Wine. Cigarettes. Candy. Candles. Sponges. Name it, and you can get it whenever you want in New York. I haven’t lived in the city in almost three years and I still get frustrated when I have to wait for things. Like love and chocolate doughnuts.

After I left the real estate office, I grabbed my laptop and headed to the only bar in town, Sarah’s. It was a nice place, with a shiny wooden bar and a bunch of beers on tap. I ordered a semi-local one that I think was called Shipyard Ale. I asked the woman behind the bar a bunch of questions about the town, did she like it, what the politics were, what the economy was like. She said the winters were cold and hard and the summers were brutal because of tourists. That didn’t sound too promising for my big dreams of living there someday ,but I put it out of mind and got busy writing.

I was so into it that I barely noticed when a pair of ladies came in and sat at the bar as well. I noticed them soon enough, though, as they made conversation about the Cessna plane that entered restricted airspace and caused that big evacuation. They were very nice, very laid back women - the kind that ignorant people would write off as "lesbians" at first glance. I’m not sure if they were or not but they fit the description; they were obviously confident, independent, and had short hair. And when I had short hair, I was labeled that too.

Their names were Mary and Jennifer. They were waiting on two other friends and it was obvious they were out to have a good time. I wondered what the occasion was but didn’t ask. We had fun, though, them interjecting little comments and distracting me from working, making me giggle. Mary mentioned being in the Navy at one point, and that she had lived in many different places around the country. We compared notes on a bunch of cities and chatted about my project. They thought it was pretty awesome.

I got into a writing groove at one point and didn’t notice a middle-aged guy with a brunette buzz-cut and a moustache plop down on my right with a bowl of soup. Mary and Jennifer noticed, though, and said, "You coming on, Greggie? Were you out today?"

His accent came out as thick as the stew in his bowl. "Yah, I been out this morning in the woods. Trout fishin’. Now I just gotta get some soup in me and I’ll be good to go." I realized that the other bartender was leaving and threw a dollar bill and some change on the bar - my only remaining cash from the $10 I withdrew for the sandwich earlier. Everybody laughed at me. It turns out she is the head manager and makes a killing at her job, so she doesn’t accept gratuities. They all knew that, and it was a funny moment.

Greg was obviously well-liked by Mary and Jennifer, and they filled him in on my plan. They also filled me in on Greg’s other job, which was simply, "He’s a guide." At first I didn’t know what they meant.
"A guide? Like a counselor?"
"No, a guide."
"A tour guide?"
"Kinda," Greg said. "I do fishin’ and huntin’ and hikin’ and stuff. I take the Massholes out."
I finally got it - he was a go-to guy if you wanted to get down and dirty in the woods but didn’t know where to start. I still think that is the coolest freaking job ever. I would love to lead people into the woods and show them how to camp and how to be quiet so they could see the wildlife. Camping and getting paid for it is okay in my book. (Not so big on the hunting, though.)

It was around this time that Mary and Jennifer’s friends showed up, Holly and Candy. Sweet jesus, I cannot tell you how funny these women were when all of them got together. It was like dropping a firecracker in a bucket and watching the sparks. The first thing Mary and Jen did was introduce me as "This-Is-Jessica-She’s-Goin’-All-Over-The-Place-And-Writing-A-Book-So-You-Better-Not-Say-Anything-Stupid-Okay?"
I wasn’t even looking at them because I was trying not to fall out of my chair laughing, so I don’t know which one of them said, "Too late for that." It was on like Donkey Kong.

They ordered another round of drinks and some food, and Candy started telling me how no book would be complete without writing about Holly’s grandmother. I haven’t met her, but her reputation precedes her for about a mile, apparently. Candy told me a story of a time she and Holly went out to dinner with the 85-year-old grandmother and in between courses, Nana started scratching the table and watching the young waiter. "What?" Candy asked her. "Do you need something?"
"No," she said. "I’m just picturing him naked laid out on this table covered in whipped cream and cherries." Then, Candy said, she did that sucking thing with her mouth that Anthony Hopkins did in "Silence of the Lambs". I was dying!

Then Candy grabbed Holly and made her tell me some other stories, like "The Time That Nana Fell On Her Face On Purpose So Cute Guys Would Help Her Up And 17-Year-Old Holly Could Have An Excuse Talk To Them", "The Time(s) That Holly Has Called Nana To Ask What She Is Doing And Nana Says She’s Playing With Herself", and "The Time That Nana Threw Broccoli At Candy At A Restaurant And Then Asked The Waiter To Tell Candy To Please Stop Throwing Broccoli". It was too much, I was almost peeing myself laughing. Then all four of them told me about this party they were throwing for Jennifer’s sister, who is quite accident prone. They made her a special suit to wear for the bash made out of bubble wrap and caution tape. The whole thing was so freaking hilarious, I was wiping tears away, partly from laughing and partly from just pure joy. It was obvious that these women were in love with life, and it was contagious.

At one point, while I was trying in vain to get work done and not pay attention to the madness to my left, Candy asked Holly, "So when her book gets made into a movie who do you want to play you?" Holly said, "I don’t know but I know who I would pick to play you."
"Who?" asked Candy.
"Well," said Holly. "Who’s the ugliest woman you can think of?"
"You," Candy said, without missing a beat.
"Well, okay, who’s the second-ugliest woman you can think of?"
I couldn’t even hear the answer, I was laughing so hard.

But honestly, that is what this book is all about - what is beauty? And who is truly beautiful? In my opinion, those four women are more gorgeous than every plastic supermodel combined. I tried to capture it by taking their picture and I think the camera did a pretty good job, although Candy hated the way it came out because she thinks she has a double chin. I loaded it onto the laptop right then and there and Holly asked, "What are you going to call this picture, ‘Tards of Maine’?"
"No," shouted Mary. "Short Bus Sluts!"
I got beer up my nose.

Mary and Jennifer own a bed-and-breakfast called The Tipsy Butler and they regaled us with stories of the crazy guests they’ve had. I mentioned that I had Moxie for the first time that morning and Candy asked, "Isn’t it so great? I love it! I drink it warm in the morning instead of coffee!" I looked at her like she had four heads and Greg laughed. Mary and Jen told us about a ghost in their B&B that likes to throw hairbrushes at you if you drink in the parlor. That was a little freaky.

We had such a great time but they all had to leave just as the sun was starting to get low. I was sad to see them go but it did give me a chance to get some work done, and make some calls. I was a bit tipsy myself so I went outside and called Brian. He was tipsy as well and soon we were giving each other The State Of The Relationship Address, which should never be done when drinking or over the phone or when the two people are hundreds of miles apart, so it was bad. I ended up pacing the sidewalk in front of the restaurant, trying not to cry, for about twenty minutes. When I finally went back inside,
though, it was obvious that I had been tearing up.
"What’s the matter?" Greg asked.

"Ah, it’s nothing," I said softly. "He doesn’t like me as much as I like him, I think." I’m getting to be a really good judge of that, it happens to me so often.
"Ya need anatha beah?" he asked, putting an even thicker accent on to cheer me up.
I laughed a little. "No, that’s one thing I don’t need. Just some water would be great."

Greg was in full-on Comfort The Crying Girl Mode. "Here’s my card if you ever need anything. Or if you just want to go out into the woods, y’know, go fishin’ or something."
I tried to act more cheerful than I felt, to psyche myself out and said, "Yeah, I want to see a moose! I saw a moose today but it didn’t count ‘cause it was in the zoo."
"Yeah, if you want I’ll take you to see a real moose. Someday, if you want, y’know."
"Yeah, I’d really like that. I can’t pay you, though."
"Eh, whatever. You buy the beer, that’s the trade."
"Sounds good to me."

I left a little while later, saying goodbye to Greg as I left. "I work tomorrow during the day if you’re around," he said. I thanked him for being so nice. I was still pretty upset over the whole Brian thing, not because it was so horrible to find out we’re on different pages, but only because the hurt is magnified by being such a stranger everywhere I go. I don’t care about him as much as I miss familiarity.

I went to the car to go back to Waldoboro, where I was staying another night at Larry’s, but went for a walk down by the water instead. I sat on the dock and watched my feet dangle over the edge, and wondered if I’ll really be able to make it all the way across the country without having some sort of nervous breakdown.

Then I poured myself in the car and headed back to Larry’s. Just like in Mexico, it felt good to know I was going someplace that was home for one more night. When I got there, it was late. I knew I still had writing to do but I was feeling burnt out and depressed. I didn’t want to think, I just wanted to poop out in front of the TV and zone out for awhile. That’s how I knew I was really upset about Brian, because I NEVER want to do that. It was weird.

Having Larry there to offer me pasta and ask me what was the matter felt good, almost like having a dad for a day. We watched TV and hung out until late at night. We decided to go to North Haven in the morning, and then I would leave for Boston in the afternoon while Larry stayed on the island to work on his house. It was a change of plans, and cut my time in Maine short by a day, but I felt I should be moving on, despite the friends I’d made. I still had many people to see and didn’t want to miss them.