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You Can Go Home Again

The Cape was at its most amazing this weekend. Made reasonably good time up on Friday (depsite Connecticut's best efforts to remain a parking lot), with a Ptown virgin in tow. Found a friend or two once we arrived (the Crown has a brand new, ding-dong doorbell bartender ... we call him Marcello, or maybe Arms-cello ... fresh in that day from Brazil) and then headed to dinner with the ever-hot Jimmy at The Lobster Pot. Took a quick break back to my house, where one of my oldest friends (we'll be knowing each other 20 years this fall) and her ex (those lesbians just can't let go, can they?) were sitting in my living room, high as kites, playing a post-Scrabble game of cards and drinking beers.

I'd come home.

Hung out with them for awhile, then headed down to the show, where the music was medium bad (although the new Deborah Cox Aida remix is fun) and the crowd was a pre-season cornucopia of quasi-locals ... a mere taste of the messes delights that summer would bring.

Saturday was all about cramming as possible into gently deflowering the virgin with the varied treasures of our Portuguese fishing village: a trip to Race Point, a stroll down Commercial Street, a gander at the shops that were slowly opening, walk-throughs of neighborhood galleries, visits with more friends, bloodies and burgers at the Squealing Pig. My afternoon run turned into helping the girls put some furniture together for our downstairs bedroom (we apparently trade lodging for carpentry skills). Beers, joints, lesbians, Marlboro Lights and power tools. All I needed was a flannel shirt and a vagina and I'd have been card-carrying. Then again, it could just tell them it's a permanent strap-on.

Afterwards came a nap, a fine meal, and a cocktail or seven at the local haunts. I even had a "first" who knew you could go downstairs at Chaser's and play ping pong with the ladies?

Then it was off to where the boys play, which was a much prettier less scary crowd than the night before (or maybe I'd had more to drink). Morning rain on Sunday made for a peaceful end to a perfect Saturday and the ride home was even shorter that the ride up. All hail showtunes on iPods.

My favorite time up there is before and after season, the weather hinting at long days on the beach, and having time to hang with my friends who are lucky enough to call Ptown home. Once the crowds come, they're usually all too busy working to just sit and relax with ... or stand around in a garage laughing till our sides hurt watching a dyke version of Lucy and Ethel build a bedroom set.

Larry and I are back in two weeks for Memorial Day, and to see if the rest of the furniture ever got finshed. I'll take a flannel shirt, just in case.

Oh, and for the record, Thursday really wasn't that late of a night. I was was eating a patty melt and fries on my sofa watching Letterman, so clearly I was home around midnight. That's early.