I was the designated booking agent for our first annual sister’s trip; and Joy told me to book our second night hotel in Rockport. She said it was a charming seaside town with interesting shops and plenty of fresh lobster rolls.
We’d discussed various things to see and do while in New England and agreed our main objectives were to see fall foliage and eat lobster rolls. Joy said she’d love for us to see Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park off the coast of upper Maine, but Maine was further north than we had time to venture on this trip.
Our flight arrived in Boston after midnight and everybody was at the point of silly-tired by the time we claimed our luggage. When Judy made us take our first three-sisters-picture in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in the ladies room, we all dissolved into giggles.
We were truly exhausted; and it was wonderful to finally fall into our beds at our functional and clean, but non-descript hotel outside Boston.
The next morning, awakened by our hotel’s “gradual awakening system”—which was how Judy’s sleep-deprived brain perceived the morning sun glowing around the curtain’s edges—and fortified by a first-things-first stop at Starbuck’s, we set out to see New England.
The foliage was gorgeous along the drive; as was Good Harbor Beach where we stopped and admired the Massachusetts shoreline. Our giggles returned when we tried to casually position ourselves in the background of a German movie being shot in the beach parking lot.
Next stop was Rockport. As soon as we got to town, we called the hotel I’d booked to see if we could check in early and drop off our luggage, but our rooms weren’t ready yet.
True to Joy’s description, Rockport was New England seaside picturesque. We clambered over the cobble beach and took pictures on the boulders; then wandered through the small shops on the street lining the shore.
We sat on a deck by the bay and ate steaming hot lobsters—straight from the lobster boats behind Roy Moore Lobster Co to the stockpot to our buttery fingers.
Finishing our afternoon off with ice cream, we headed toward our vehicle so we could check into our hotel and then decide what we wanted to do that evening.
A problem surfaced when GPS couldn’t locate our hotel’s address. I knew it existed because I’d booked our rooms there and had spoken to the front desk earlier that day. Fortunately, I’d taken printed copies of our reservations and retrieved them as soon as we got to the car. I handed them to Joy—happy to let her sort it out—because she was the one who’d told me to book in Rockport.
She looked at my papers and said, “You didn’t book our hotel in Rockport, MAINE did you?”
And I said, “I booked it in Rockport. Just like you said.”
As it turned out, there’s a Rockport, Maine AND a Rockport, Massachusetts; AND they’re 3 hours and 19 minutes apart. But the best thing about traveling with your sisters is that you can laugh at just about everything, if that’s what you choose; and we do and we did.
We laughed about my booking confusion the entire trip; and my sisters shared the story about “our sister” with people we’d never met, everywhere we went—a nice police officer, an antique shop proprietor, the apple orchard owners, our waitress at The Franconia in New Hampshire, the store clerks in Vermont and on and on and on. And we’d laugh all over again.
The three best things about the trip were: the laughter with my sisters, the buttery lobster rolls, and the beautiful foliage. And my take-away lesson was: be sure I find out the state, as well as the town, before I make an on-line hotel reservation.
There are all kinds of reservations in life to be made; and I’m every so heart thankful that my final destination reservation was made a long time ago. No confusion there; and I’m anticipating lots of laughter when I arrive.
Straight from Jesus’ mouth to my ears and heart:
There is more than enough room
in my Father’s home.
If this were not so,
would I have told you
that I am going to prepare a place for you?