I left the relative warmth of Florida, though I thought it cold at sixty degrees, to arrive in the truly arctic climes of Rhode Island Monday afternoon. I had no warm clothes. Lori, the office manager at the boat yard was kind enough to suggest I hit the nearest Sears and pick up such necessities as long underwear, wool socks, and a good fleece vest. My first thought was that I should hit the nearest travel agency and book a direct flight back to Florida before I became another faceless hypothermia statistic.I couldn't find an open travel agency; I went to Sears instead. Oddly enough, Sears didn't have fleece vests or wool socks, but they did have long underwear. Apparently, however, every man over five feet ten inches tall in Rhode Island is also grossly obese. At least, that's what the long underwear manufacturers in Taiwan believe. My six feet two inches of height translated into about five thousand pounds of flab around the midriff, making any two piece suit of long underwear with pants long enough to cover my shins utterly useless - why didn't they use pull stings in the waist? I brought this question up with the sales lady helping me find underwear, but she didn't have a good answer. She said she'd bring it up at the next management meeting, however. I think she was humoring me. The little device fitted snuggly in her left ear was likely telling her to calmly move me to the back of the store where the Sears commandos could surround and subdue me before I caused any damage. I managed to find a one piece long underwear contraption called a Union Suit and bought three of them. The sales lady was glad to take my money and escort me off the premesis with a smile. I could faintly hear her earpiece screeching, "Stand down! Stand down! He's going on his own! Abort!" Apparently rambling on about the insanity of creating long underwear without draw string pants is one of Sears' security triggers. I managed to find socks and a fleece jacket at a sporting goods store before sneaking back into Sears to buy the tools necessary to begin my boat yard assignment. The tool section at Sears had its own door to the parking lot, so I didn't have to walk through the men's clothing section and risk another confrontation. I loaded up on tools and then drove back to the lovely Founder's Brook Motel. If you ever find yourself in Tiverton, Rhode Island in need of a good, cheap place to stay, the Founder's Brook Motel should be tops on your list. It exudes that quaint 1950's roadside hotel aura that always manages to set the mind at ease and provide a great night's sleep. No one would possibly consider blasting their stereo all night in the room next door in a 1950's roadside hotel. No one would choose this place to stage a domestic argument replete with small arms fire. No, the Founder's Brook Motel exists in a bubble of lost time, cut off from today's rude crush of insouciance. However, the drive to get there might just kill you. If I survive, tomorrow I remove the port lights.
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