Life on the Ranch
So, with a summer trip to Europe just a few months away I need to be a bit more responsible with my money. So, after some long, hard talks, and desperately realizing the need for a little get-away, Mike and I have decided to go to Ptown for along weekend next Friday.
We ruled out Manhattan (too pricey) and Montreal (too far…yet it came a VERY close second to Ptown).
Wanting to go in style, we’ve opted to go with Zipcar instead of a tradition car rental so that we can go down in a Mini Cooper convertible (versus the boring Ford or Oldsmobile sedan a rental car agency would like provide us). And if we pick up the car in Brookline or Cambridge instead of downtown Boston we can save an extra $10-$15 per day.
The plan currently is to crash at my parents place on Friday night (then I can give him the grand tour of my childhood stomping grounds in Osterville since I got to see his hometown of North Easton a few weeks ago). We’ll then spend all of Saturday and Sunday in (a mostly likely deserted) Ptown.
Continuing with the budget theme of this trip, Mike wants us to stay at….gasp…the Ranch. Now, you straight (and non-local) people are probably wondering why I’ve got reservations about these, well, hotel reservations. Let me put it this way, during peak season this place is known for its occupants leaving their room doors open so that “new friends” can come in and, well, let’s keep it simple and say “entertain you.”*
Mike is also intrigued with the novelty that most rooms also have slings. Yes, slings. Nothing says charming seaside resort like a leather and chain contraption suspending you from the ceiling. I’ll be sure to take pictures (not of us using the sling…but of the trip in general!)
Still, I’m hoping to change his mind and stay at a more charming place. Perhaps one that doesn’t have a porn video library in the living room.
*For the record, any room I stay in will be double-bolted the entire time.
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Um.
Yeah. You know? I’m just not sure what to say.
I want your life.
Tre ranch sounds a little like The Brenton in DC. Last time I was there–about ten years ago–I was with two friends and we kept the door closed because among the three of us we didn’t lack for “entertainment.” But no slings.
Enjoy, Karl. It’ll be a fun get-away.
And where exactly is MY invitation? Hmph.
Just don’t forget your chaps and cowboy hat!
My! How we’ve grown!!