I arrived in Provincetown just as the sun was setting. On the map,
Provincetown was small, so Richard and I had not planed a meeting
place. We both thought it would be easy to find one another. Walking
my bicycle down Main Street, however, I began to have second thoughts
about that decision. It was already late, and the weather forecast was
not good—wet and windy, so I took an $8. a night, ($6. thereafter)
room at the Codder Boarding House. Once I got settled in, I went back
to looking for Richard.
I passed some street musicians playing guitars by a city fountain.
The dog, also part of the group (I think), was doing the singing. Just
off to the side of that hilarious scene sat Richard, or should I say
reclined Richard—his rain gear for a pillow, and his lanky body
stretched out on a bench. He had book stuck in his bearded face—what a
sight! Leaning on the back of the bench was his ten-year-old K-mart
clunker of a bike. But, hey, it got him here, all the way from Michigan.
Our reunion went super—pizza, beer, and, of course, sharing the
stories of our respective trips. Outside the pub, the rain had finally
decided to fall, but inside it was warm and cozy. Provincetown was
definitely a good place to meet. Main Street was only large enough for
one automobile at a time. We were told that the seaside shops and
boutiques, on particularly stormy days, become the town’s seawall.
Even so, the rising surf, on particularly bad days, managed to make
some of the streets impassable. In addition to the tourists, the
town’s other contingent–the free spirited artist community, filled
the quaint shops, restaurants, and bars. Provincetown was also home to
a large gay population. A visit to P- town should be on everybody’s
“list of places to go.”