Six New York City girls boarded a plan for the island retreat of Nantucket last weekend, leaving behind the stress of Manhattan in exchange for the quiet tranquility of New England. I didn’t want a raucous bachelorette party, the kind where everything is a hazy alcohol blur charged with electric lights and slot machine sounds of Las Vegas, where memories are only those saved on film and not internally. Instead, I wanted my closest friends to leave their worries behind and breathe in the nice crisp salty sea air. I wanted to celebrate friendship with old friends and toast to the new best friend who I will be marrying.
“It looks like the airport from Wings,” Stacy remarked as she grabbed her bag from the makeshift luggage retrieval area that was a few slabs of wood bolted together mere feet from the tarmac. One by one, I made trips to the airport to pick up my bridesmaids and drive them through the preserve lands, passed the outskirt of town with the grey shingled houses with white shudders, down the cobblestone Main Street whose presence has remained untouched over the years. The old Jeep trudged along over the well-worn streets and the early-fall sun and brisk sea breeze reminded everyone that summer was unofficially over as we discussed our Labor Day adventures. “I just feel so at ease here,” Alissa said taking off her blazer and rolling it up into a ball before shoving it in her carry-on. “I don’t ever want to leave.”
The weekend commenced with a clambake on Friday night in the backyard. “This is a heels-free zone,” I said as everyone got dressed for the evening. “Not just tonight, but trust me, walking around town tomorrow stilettos will be your literal downfall on the cobblestone.” Trying to tell 6 fashionistas that they need to leave their Manolos behind and opt into flip-flops proved to be less challenging than I first thought. It was if with the miles between us and New York, a distance grew between us and our New York City problems. Shoes aside, we left the toe-pinching dilemmas and baggage behind. The James Taylor CD filled the night air as we got our hands dirty pulling lobster and mussels from their shells, clinking wine glasses
and laughing a little louder and a little lighter than we would have back at home.
The rest of the weekend was much of the same. “No schedules,” was my Bridezilla request. “I want everyone to do whatever they want while they are here. We don’t have to be together 24 hours a day. I just want everyone to have fun and relax.” I have been to bachelorette parties, weekend ones, where every second is scheduled down to who is showering when and how many boxes of Triscuts are to be shared. I didn’t want any of that nonsense. So, some people spent their afternoon walking on the beach, others playing tennis and more sitting lazily on deck chairs reading a book. No rules. No day planners. No Blackberries.
On our final night we gathered for dinner at a beachside restaurant to watch the sunset over the Atlantic. My bridesmaids had sent M a questionnaire to fill out ahead of time and I was going to be asked the same set of questions that he had answered – a bachelorette version of the Newlywed Game. “Ok Carr, read the first question out loud and tell us what you think M would have answered,” Melissa said as she sweetly sipped the champagne the waiter had just poured. Dumbfounded that M would actually participate in something so estrogen-charged and femmie, I had to double check. “Wait, M actually filled this out?”
“Just answer the questions,” Rachel demanded. I flipped to the last page, there were 43 questions such as: “What is Carrie’s favorite movie and If Mattel made a Carrie-doll, what would it say?” I could envision M, sitting in his office, his Blackberry buzzing a stack of Excel sheets piled next to him, cursing the female persuasion for finding humor and fun in this type of torture as he tried to recall what article of clothing of his I hate the most. I got 41out of 43 questions correct.
The hours ticked by as our flights home loomed and the weekend was coming to an end. “I don’t want to leave,” Alissa said. We packed everyone into the Jeep, 4 seated and two packed into the trunk area like dogs. “You Ok back there?” I asked as I closed the hatch on Jodi and Debra who had contorted into Gumby-like poses. “We aren’t going far, I promise.” I wanted to take them to my lake – the most serene part of the island, a place where the world seems to melt away into the marshlands and time stops for just a moment.
I drove up Cliff Road and turned towards Madaket, pulling off at Hummock Pond. It was mid-day and the sun was strong as we walked down the dock to sit on the edge. A family of ducks was hanging out on the side in the brush as the mother duck watched as the little ones tested out the water. Swans floated by, their white plumes stark against the dusty brown and heather of the landscape. No one else was around – just us girls, the swans, the ducks and a few scattered rabbits who made quick appearances before leaping back into the vegetation. We sat and did nothing, we just watched nature instead of TV, instead of people watching in Central Park or crowded café on the Upper East Side. We just watched the world away from the one we knew, the one which we do love, and appreciated it for everything it is. But every once in awhile, it is good to get away, reflect on life, friendship and love – in a natural way, like the sunlight reflecting a golden hue off the steel gray waters of the pond.
It was perfect to just sit and be together.
“It looks like the airport from Wings,” Stacy remarked as she grabbed her bag from the makeshift luggage retrieval area that was a few slabs of wood bolted together mere feet from the tarmac. One by one, I made trips to the airport to pick up my bridesmaids and drive them through the preserve lands, passed the outskirt of town with the grey shingled houses with white shudders, down the cobblestone Main Street whose presence has remained untouched over the years. The old Jeep trudged along over the well-worn streets and the early-fall sun and brisk sea breeze reminded everyone that summer was unofficially over as we discussed our Labor Day adventures. “I just feel so at ease here,” Alissa said taking off her blazer and rolling it up into a ball before shoving it in her carry-on. “I don’t ever want to leave.”
The weekend commenced with a clambake on Friday night in the backyard. “This is a heels-free zone,” I said as everyone got dressed for the evening. “Not just tonight, but trust me, walking around town tomorrow stilettos will be your literal downfall on the cobblestone.” Trying to tell 6 fashionistas that they need to leave their Manolos behind and opt into flip-flops proved to be less challenging than I first thought. It was if with the miles between us and New York, a distance grew between us and our New York City problems. Shoes aside, we left the toe-pinching dilemmas and baggage behind. The James Taylor CD filled the night air as we got our hands dirty pulling lobster and mussels from their shells, clinking wine glasses
and laughing a little louder and a little lighter than we would have back at home.The rest of the weekend was much of the same. “No schedules,” was my Bridezilla request. “I want everyone to do whatever they want while they are here. We don’t have to be together 24 hours a day. I just want everyone to have fun and relax.” I have been to bachelorette parties, weekend ones, where every second is scheduled down to who is showering when and how many boxes of Triscuts are to be shared. I didn’t want any of that nonsense. So, some people spent their afternoon walking on the beach, others playing tennis and more sitting lazily on deck chairs reading a book. No rules. No day planners. No Blackberries.
On our final night we gathered for dinner at a beachside restaurant to watch the sunset over the Atlantic. My bridesmaids had sent M a questionnaire to fill out ahead of time and I was going to be asked the same set of questions that he had answered – a bachelorette version of the Newlywed Game. “Ok Carr, read the first question out loud and tell us what you think M would have answered,” Melissa said as she sweetly sipped the champagne the waiter had just poured. Dumbfounded that M would actually participate in something so estrogen-charged and femmie, I had to double check. “Wait, M actually filled this out?”
“Just answer the questions,” Rachel demanded. I flipped to the last page, there were 43 questions such as: “What is Carrie’s favorite movie and If Mattel made a Carrie-doll, what would it say?” I could envision M, sitting in his office, his Blackberry buzzing a stack of Excel sheets piled next to him, cursing the female persuasion for finding humor and fun in this type of torture as he tried to recall what article of clothing of his I hate the most. I got 41out of 43 questions correct.
The hours ticked by as our flights home loomed and the weekend was coming to an end. “I don’t want to leave,” Alissa said. We packed everyone into the Jeep, 4 seated and two packed into the trunk area like dogs. “You Ok back there?” I asked as I closed the hatch on Jodi and Debra who had contorted into Gumby-like poses. “We aren’t going far, I promise.” I wanted to take them to my lake – the most serene part of the island, a place where the world seems to melt away into the marshlands and time stops for just a moment.
I drove up Cliff Road and turned towards Madaket, pulling off at Hummock Pond. It was mid-day and the sun was strong as we walked down the dock to sit on the edge. A family of ducks was hanging out on the side in the brush as the mother duck watched as the little ones tested out the water. Swans floated by, their white plumes stark against the dusty brown and heather of the landscape. No one else was around – just us girls, the swans, the ducks and a few scattered rabbits who made quick appearances before leaping back into the vegetation. We sat and did nothing, we just watched nature instead of TV, instead of people watching in Central Park or crowded café on the Upper East Side. We just watched the world away from the one we knew, the one which we do love, and appreciated it for everything it is. But every once in awhile, it is good to get away, reflect on life, friendship and love – in a natural way, like the sunlight reflecting a golden hue off the steel gray waters of the pond.
It was perfect to just sit and be together.
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2 comments:
Possibly your best post ever! Glad you had a nice weekend, and love how you affectionately called yourself, "Bridezilla."
sounds like a nice time. good luck with your wedding details. hope to see pictures on the blog - alyson
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