So I spent the weekend in Williamsburg!
*long pause for people to get excited*
*headdesk* No, I spent the weekend in Williamsburg, VA with my Brazilian Helicopter Pilot. *grinds head further into desk* New Yorkers REALLY have a hard time seeing beyond our own city. For a whole month I have been telling people about this trip and if they are NYC dwellers that is the response. THERE ARE OTHER PLACES BESIDES NEW YORK PEOPLE!!!!!
Okay, now that that is out of the way! I WENT TO WILLIAMSBURG!
It was a nine hour bus ride each way. Fucking gross.
The first bus ride was first thing Thursday morning. We got up at the ass crack of dawn and made our way to the bus station, of course with a quick stop at Starbucks so I would be able to handle humanity. Once at the bus station we located our gate (I had called 3 times the day prior to ascertain the gate number and was shuffled here and there and finally after 6 or 7 attempts to ring the Greyhound station we got the guy who could give me the information we needed). We settled in for a nice hour wait and chatted with the guy in the line next to us. A deaf woman came through handing out pins with the ASL alphabet on it, Brazilian Helicopter Pilot and I both said no, and then ten minutes later she returned and took them back.
Getting on the bus was a bit of a trial because apparently they had made multiple announcements about checking bags that NO ONE had heard. So the guy putting the bags under the bus got snotty and I got snippy and then spent the resulting 7 hour bus ride convinced that my bag was not under the bus and Brazilian Helicopter Pilot had to reassure me at regular intervals that my bag was indeed under the bus.
Other than that the first leg down south was uneventful. We made it to Richmond without issue and I stood in line to get the fucking destination tag because otherwise they wouldn’t put my bag under the bus. We then spent an hour and a half listening to a woman make garbled announcements over the PA system that were worse than the early morning train conductors who just want you to get your God damn shit out of the way of the doors and need another cup of coffee. Meaning she sounded more like the teacher from Peanuts than anything else and not because she was boring, she was making vital announcements that NO ONE could understand. I got some of it because of my New York City subway experiences, but she was incoherent.
Once in Williamsburg (kiss the ground and dance for joy) we went to a local tavern – Brickhouse Tavern – and had some yummy tavern fare. The server and Brazilian Helicopter Pilot had a hearty laugh at me asking for “Southern sweet tea.” They said, almost in unison, “It’s just sweet tea.” Lemon suckers.
Being acclimated to NYC, both Brazilian Helicopter Pilot and I were unprepared for the serving sizes. After the appetizers I couldn’t even look at the Greek salad I had ordered and Brazilian Helicopter Pilot barely made it through half of his sandwich. We packed it to go and headed out so I could call for a taxi.
The hotel was a very nice Holiday Inn Express on right near the resort we were to visit the next day for a presentation. So we unpacked, watched two episodes of Chopped (Brazilian Helicopter Pilot DID NOT expect me to get hooked on it as quick as I did) and passed out. We barely stirred during the hair-raising thunder and lightning storm that happened and woke up nice and refreshed the next day.
We’re gonna skip the presentation because while it was interesting it was unimportant. Afterwards we went through the anxiety and panic-inducing process of arranging to rent a car from Enterprise and schedule a pick-up. After that, while we waited for the cab, Brazilian Helicopter Pilot rubbed my back soothingly and told me I did good.
We arrived at the Silver Hand Meadery early and walked around the strip mall next door. I found a pair of daisy dukes for 4.25 in a thrift store and bought them because in New York City shorts cost almost as much as a good pair of jeans even though there is an eighth of the amount of fabric.
The honey tasting at the meadery was a lot of fun. We arrived a few minutes early and talked with one of the owners while we waited. They started fermenting honey for mead in November 2015 and opened the store to sell in March 2016. We tasted six different honeys and I was blown away by each one. My favorites, which I bought, were the clover honey and the mesquite honey. The clover honey was an intensely flavorful honey with a spicy taste – cinnamon, nutmeg, etc. And the mesquite was a much lighter honey and had an almost smokey flavor to it, but it was not overwhelming. The other owner, Glenn, who did the tasting was exceedingly knowledgeable about honey and bees. We learned a lot about queen bees and how they are born/made and what honeycomb looks like and how to know how much honey to take and leave for the bees. The mead we tasted after the honey was not as sweet as the mead that I have had in the past, but Brazilian Helicopter Pilot was very happy with it and purchased a bottle for us to enjoy. We are going to make Beestings with it – 2/3 hard cider and 1/3 mead.
After the tasting, Enterprise picked us up and we went to the car rental place. I was expecting it to be a trial and a half due to the bullshit that had occurred earlier that day, but instead we were helped by very personable and engaged individuals. One of which, a Scotsman by birth, took great fun in bantering with the Brazilian Helicopter Pilot and me. Here are a few examples:
“Sorry you have to be helped by one of the pesky internationals,” he said.
“No worries, I am dating one of those pesky internationals” I replied, hooking a thumb at Brazilian Helicopter Pilot.
While I ensured my credit card wouldn’t decline the car rental fee, Scotsman and Brazilian Helicopter Pilot became bro-mates for life and shared life stories so by the time I returned to the counter they started heckling me to upgrade from a very affordable economy to a mustang or impala. I fought back valiantly, but they were undaunted. I did persevere, but for the rest of the weekend all I heard about was that beautiful mustang convertible.
So we were waiting for the car to be brought around and the Scotsman starts entering things into the computer for another customer and he is banging on the keyboard loudly. Brazilian Helicopter Pilot automatically tenses up next to me and we hear this:
“I know I am hitting the keys rather hard, but it’s an old keyboard and I like to do this when IT technicians are around because it makes them wince.”
Brazilian Helicopter Pilot is an IT tech, as he had told his bro-mate during their bonding session. We laughed.
Once we secured the car and happily headed back to the hotel to drop off our booty from the meadery, we sought out dinner. We went to a cute little restaurant near Colonial Williamsburg and indulged in more sweet tea.
After that it was a brief wander through the shops to waste time until out Ghost Tour and Witches of Williamsburg tour. Both were fun, but I preferred the witch tour because it was more factual and detailed whereas the ghost tour was more abstract and vague. The one ghost story that stuck with me was of the Lady Anne who found her husband cheating on her with her sister during a ball. She ran back to where she was staying and lost her shoe along the way. Apparently, if you go up to the door and knock on it and say “Lady Anne, Lady Anne I have found your red shoe” she will try to come out.
Spoooooookyyyyyyyy thought. Especially for me who traumatized myself at a young age with Bloody Mary and then re-traumatized by Supernatural’s Bloody Mary Episode. Brazilian Helicopter Pilot has been warned not to scare me at night in, near, or around the bathroom.
By the end of the tours we were both exhausted so we returned to the hotel and conked out.
We’ll end here because Saturday and Sunday were equally long : )
Until next time!