Post by Grubb.
I like to think that when we moseyed across the footbridge over the inlet of Boothbay Harbor I was actually stepping back in parallel time.
On the hotel side of the bay the large shingled resorts and lobster restaurants have, according to the plaques, been converted from Gilded Age mansions. Apparently, this universe, like ours, experienced an economic boom in the late 19th century and the arriviste wealth came to summer by the Maine seashore. I had to pause and do a double take at a set of white shingled buildings that claimed to be a “golf resort”. On the water? There was no course resembling anything I have played golf on. In my former dimension we were accustomed to having long cut grass fairways and emerald greens. Maybe they play it like polo with large mallets on the water?
Back across the footbridge, we did a final stroll through the hilly harbor village. I looked through the window of a dark coffee shop that was closed. Oh no, don’t tell me that, in this brave new world, coffee is a thing of the past…