Asbury Park: non-functioning and fading
Just as well that it was a mellow evening; we had a rental car to pick up at 8:00 the next morning. Having had a coffee or two on the way from Wilson's house, we were ready to hit the road. Sadly, the day appeared to be overcast and cold as we headed south in our white Corsica (no tape deck...sigh...)
Asbury
Park: non-functioning and fading
Our first stop was Asbury Park, NJ. I had been there during the summer, and it was desolate then. Now, in the gloominess and stillness of a rainy fall day, the boardwalk and strip of closed shops seemed surreal. I photographed some of the architecture of Asbury Park's days-gone-by: the non-functioning neon and fading visage of George C. Tilyou, an influential figure in the development of Coney Island; the semi-cylindrical Howard Johnson's; and the once-beautiful Convention Center. We walked along the beach, picking up the occasional piece of colored, tumbled glass. Wilson was more of a purist, collecting green exclusively.
The semi-cylindrical Howard
Johnson's
From there, it was a short trip to Seaside Heights...one time hangout of Bon Jovi and location of much of the shooting of Springsteen's "Tunnel of Love" video. Although the rides were closed for the season, much of the boardwalk was still open, and we played a few rounds of High Speed, the pinball game of my college years. We stamped out lovey-dovey messages on "lucky tokens" and presented them to each other. We ate soft ice cream and sat on a bench and looked at the ocean. My quest for chocolate covered potato chips, a delicacy I remembered from the summer of 1988, was unfulfilled.
Seaside Heights: much of
the boardwalk was still open
Down the coast to Atlantic City....Not really what I expected. I had anticipated Vegas in New Jersey, even though I knew that wouldn't be the case. I somehow didn't expect the place to look like gambling halls in office buildings, though. On the beach side of the buildings, there was more of a sense of hedonism and decadence, although I did find everything more restrained and tasteful than I had thought (and hoped) it would be.
Inside Caesar's Palace and TropWorld ("Is that like just TOO, too, too?" asked Wilson), the scene changed. The places were packed...so packed that finding a vacant slot machine proved to be a challenge. At one point, Wilson tried to feed a quarter into one, but his attempt was thwarted by his neighbor who practically threw herself on the machine, snapping "This is MINE!" That was our cue to exit.
One final New Jersey side trip was necessary. It was very important to me to see Lucy the Margate Elephant, a recently renovated Victorian Era tourist attraction. We were too late for the tour, so I settled on photographing it (her?). Finding an angle that allowed me to bracket all 9 tons and 6 floors of her splendor was no easy task, but I found a position I deemed acceptable and snapped a few shots.
Lucy the Margate Elephant
We started driving towards Shartlesville, Pennsylvania, where we
planned to start the following day with one of those all-you-can
eat extravaganzas (a.k.a. Amish Pig-Out
I was having a hankering for a cheese steak, and Wilson was up for
the Philadelphia experience, so we exited (the wrong way) on South
Street, circled around a bit, and found a parking space not far
from Jim's Steaks. There was commotion in front of the restaurant;
it appeared that someone had parked a car literally in the middle
of the street, replete with the Club and all. We figured s/he must
have had a hankering for a cheese steak as well...
Our hopes had been to stop for the night around Valley Forge, but
we were intimidated by the $55.00 EconoLodge and decided to keep
driving. Our next exit was in Pottstown, which despite having a
green sign with a little white bed depicted on it, proved to be
little more than another frustration, as well as being one of those
towns that don't allow you to leave in the direction from which you
entered.
Getting near Reading, we tried other motels, but to no avail.
Peripherally, the Rainbow Motel looked promising, but we both got
kind of freaked out upon cresting the steep driveway. Finally,
like a beacon of hope, the neon Riveredge Motor Lodge sign
beckoned us. The parking lot was packed, and there seemed to be
both the Wyomissing Class of 44 Reunion and an Arthritis Dance happening. I
commented that it must be tough to tell them apart. Wilson did
remind me that "arthritis can strike at any age," however...
I didn't have much hope for the Riveredge, so I stayed behind
the wheel when he went in to scope the scene. "I got a room," he
said, smiling and holding up a set of keys, "last room in the
place." Our room seemed to share a wall with the ballroom, so we
could hear "Aloha Oe" loud and clear.
The room was huge, with one of those strips of paper across the
toilet, assuring sanitization. Aged photocopied signs informed
us of the "extreme pleasure" they had in serving us. The bathroom
was perfectly clean, and the carpet was freshly vacuumed. The
room also included an upside-down broken table, a worn black velvet
sofa, and an old cloth chair with brown shiny-spots where countless
heads and hands had rested over the years.
We settled into bed, and I was glad I had a sleeping pill with me.
"Walk of Life" and "Ooh Baby Baby" played. Our room was very dark.
After all, we were in the country.
I woke up a couple of times and got a drink of water. At one
point, both of us were awake. "What time do you think it is?"
Wilson asked. "I don't know," I responded, "about 4. It sure
is dark." He reached for his watch, and I squinted at the glow-in-
the-dark hands. "Looks like it says quarter to 10," I said. He
turned on the light for a split second, so as not to prevent us
from being able to go back to sleep. I didn't have a chance to
look at the time, so he turned on the light again. Even in the
light, the watch read 9:45. We concurred that it was broken.
Tempted to just roll over until it got light out, I forced myself
to get up and look at my watch. 9:45. We looked at our window
and realized it had a black board over it. "Mind fuck," I said.
Both of us wake up early, him more than me. 9:45 is unheard of...
this was quite disorienting.
We checked out, but we were too late for our free danish.
Fortunately, the coffee pot was still full. We exited into a
beautiful, crisp, autumn day in rural Pennsylvania. After the
obligatory stop for coffee, cigarettes, a Slim Jim, and sour cream
and onion potato chips, we were practically in Shartlesville.
The occasional hex sign-decorated barn reminded us that we were in
Amish country, and we took what appeared to be a back way in, so we
had to do Stuckey's at the end of our trip. Haag's Restaurant was
all set up for the all-you-can-eat mega-meal. We looked over the
menu and decided on two meats: chicken and ham.
For the next 45 minutes or so, we feasted on delicious bread with
apple butter, chow chow, cole slaw, dried corn, mashed potatoes,
peas, green beans, ham, chicken, noodles, and, of course, cherry
and shoo-fly pie with ice cream. Quite a breakfast.
A short drive took us to our next stop, Roadside America, the
world's largest indoor miniature train display. We were prepared
to see more than we expected, even though I'd been there twice
before. The walk around the perimeter of the set-up took us
to different places and different times through typical
American scenes. Wilson liked activating the trolleys that were
on a split-level track. I was just anticipating the never-
disappointing finale.
At last...the cue to move to the side...it's nighttime at Roadside
America. Illuminate the Statue of Liberty mural; put a spotlight
on the American flag; flash a Jesus slide or two; crank up "God
Bless America". Ah, catharsis!
After stepping outside for a smoke after the completion of the
Roadside America experience, Wilson contemplated buying one of the
very affordable (50 cents) souvenir ashtrays. I whole-heartedly
encouraged him and later got to say, "Wilson bought a tacky
souvenir from a roadside attraction! Wilson bought a tacky
souvenir from a roadside attraction!" It was a good feeling.
We then made our Stuckey's stop, and I was disappointed at the
lack of Pennsylvania Dutch items (like the classic "I [heart]
Intercourse), but I bought a few postcards of Three Mile Island
and felt sated. No pecan logs this time around...
The day was still young, so we decided to take a scenic drive up
by the Delaware Water Gap, through southern New York State, and
down through New Jersey. The scenery was beautiful, and we got
to enjoy a lot of it in slo-mo, since there seemed to be a bridge
out at every turn. We were happy to have the emergency potato
chips from the morning...
Darkness fell somewhere near the point at which NJ, NY, and PA
converge. We 86ed the idea of going through New York and headed
diagonally back through New Jersey, realizing, a couple of hours
later, that we managed to overshoot the Lincoln Tunnel, and we
were heading back towards Atlantic City.
Trying my best to navigate, I did feel it was my obligation as
we passed through Newark for the second time to tell Wilson,
"Newark is one of the car-jacking capitals." "N-o-o-o," he
looked at me, "really?" And he activated the "power lock."
We headed towards where Manhattan should've been, disappointed
that there wasn't a big sign that said "New York: this way" with
a blinking arrow. The interstate was right there, and we got near
exit 14C, the Holland Tunnel, the exit from my childhood visits
to my grandparents. I tried not to get nostalgic or anxious, but
I was a little of both of those.
We passed by the Wetlands, or at least near enough to it to say
we did, and everything seemed to have come full circle. Wilson
parked half a block from his apartment, and we stopped into the
mini-mart for a can of coffee. As usual, they had failed to
restock El Pico. Everything clicked into place, and another
week of life in New York City began...
The Riveredge beckoned us
We were prepared
to see more than we expected
To different places and different times through typical American scenes.
God Bless America