There's no easy way to say this. Oysters are delicious. Even the ones that cost more than $1 each.
Oyster Bay, Long Island is the home of the annual Oyster Festival, a harvest festival of sorts. This year, like in years past, my friend from Drexel (or, Jake's friend and therefor mine by association) Houstin carted a bunch of us up from Philly to partake of the salty feast. We left a little before 11 pm, piling into other-friend-Nick's white station wagon. During the drive up, we passed snack sized Kit Kat bars, recounted our favorite jokes from that night's Drexel Football Team improv performance, and caught some snoozage while the engineers in the car talked... well... engineering.
Being the only female was an unusual position for me since I started at Moore way back in aught-six, but I must say, I handled it with the graceless awkwardness that would befit an ogre or a small dog in the same situation. What can I say? I'm always a star.
We stayed the weekend at Bam's house. Who's Bam? I'm still not quite sure, having met him for a grand total of maybe 3 minutes. Apparently, he lives in Oyster Bay, and apparently Houstin knows him somehow, having been given a key to this guy's house. Jake and I missed the memo about bringing sleeping bags and pillows, so we slept in the tiny-tiny bed in what appeared to be the bedroom of a five-year-old girl - bedecked with Micky Mouse prints and cloud-mural-walls. "Don't even THINK naughty thoughts," I said to myself as I laid under the wall-matching-cloud-printed sheets staring at the cloud-painted ceiling, terrified of somehow ruining the innocence of this who-knows-why absent child.
The festival was a couple of miles away from Bam's house, so we hoofed it over on Saturday morning. The streets of this quaint yuppy town were filled with almost quaint yuppy folks and their kids quietly moving from booth to booth in the foodcourt drinking their bottomless sodas and slurping down oysters. The seafood was great - we feasted on oysters, lobster and sweet potato fries and drank so much of Wild Bill's Old Fashion Soda that we got pretty sick.
Back at the ranch, Houstin made us a pretty fantastic spaghetti and meatball dinner out of ingredients I guess he just sort of found around the house. Jake and the other lads played Soul Caliber II on Bam's XBox while I did some homework and dozed off.
The next day, Jake and I had to head home since neither of us had the liberty of an entirely home-work-free weekend, so we hopped on the Long Island Railroad, or the Train of the Future, as I'd like to call it, and ended up at Penn Station just in time to get breakfast at the Tick Tock Diner and hop on the Bolt Bus back to Philly. (I must say, between Philly and New York, someone's really mastered this public transportation thing.)
So, I'm still not sure how I ended up sleeping in a stranger's bed, but I won't say that I wouldn't do it again.
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