Tuesday, February 14, 2006

The weather was better today, but not great. Still gray and windy. I was disappointed, but we decided to wait another day before attempting the trip to Little Corn. We didn't do much. I've been so focused on getting to Little Corn that I haven't taken much time to find out what Big Corn has to offer. Which is lame of me I guess, but I have flea bites and we needed a rest and anyway, what are we going to do with some gorgeous beach in the rain?

Valentine's Day sneaked up on us a little and we agreed not to make too big a deal of it. Michael took me to a spot that he had scoped out earlier, while I was supposed to be catching up on the blog in our room. It was at the very end of a long rock jetty near the municipal dock. The water was a lovely aquamarine blue and we sat facing away from the town and watching the sunset.

It was a good one. The sky was capped by a layer of gray cloud which gave way a short distance above the water. So for a long time nothing happened, but then the sun dropped low enough to appear under the clouds and blazed gold across the water. It was very romantic.

Afterwards, having no choice either way, we went out to dinner. We went to the Fisherman's Cave. We'd eaten there twice before and the food was good. It seemed all of Big Corn had had the same idea; the place was packed. The restaurant was decked out in pink and red balloons and the ladies were decked out in pink and red hoochie tops.

We sat down at a table outside. Since the place was packed, we didn't expect instant service, but after a while it became ridiculous that no one had so much as handed us a menu. The waitress (whom we had tipped well on two prior occasions) would come out with drinks or something for another table and then stand and do that "waitress survey" thing, looking around and making sure all needs were met, then go back to the kitchen. Except we were still sitting there ignored.

After about twenty-five minutes of complete invisibility, we left and went to the only other place we knew of. This place had not bothered with the Valentine's frippery and the principle patrons were a group of rowdy, drunken men. But we got menus before our butts had fully settled into the chairs, our beers came immediately, and our order was taken before we could take the first sip.

We could have done without the shouting men, but the place played slow, old-timey country music and that was nice. About forty minutes after we'd placed our order, the waitress brought us another set of menus, saying the kitchen was out of both shrimp (my order) and beef (Michael's order). Sigh. We ordered fish and chicken.

The power went out at the very end of the meal, temporarily silencing the shouting and the music and leaving us with only the sound of the rain. But as the staff was fumbling with candles the lights came back on again, which made it easier to pay and leave.

Michael felt a little bad that our Valentine's Day dinner had been so disastrous, but that was the furthest thing from my mind. (Besides, I thought dinner was hilarious.) We had enjoyed the sunset together, which was great. But the thing is, Michael treats me like a precious thing every day. I don't spend the year waiting around looking forward to that one day when I get a dinner and some flowers and compliments. Valentine's Day is meaningless to me beyond hating the pressure of everyone's questions the next day ("What did your boyfriend do?") and the bragging.

So he may have felt bad, but I feel like we had one more great day together in a long string of great days. It would have been nice to get to Little Corn though. Tomorrow. The weather has got to improve by tomorrow.

 

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Big Corn's Domino Club in a moment of sunshine.

Jetty, Big Corn Island.

Early sunset, Valentine's Day.

Late sunset, Valentine's Day.