I attempted to take a day off from work and go to the beach. Mistakes were made on my way to the beach in Branford, Connecticut:
I refused to actually leave my apartment
I was supposed to leave at 7 a.m. and head to Misquamicut, Rhode Island for the day, but then I decided I needed to participate in a work conference call at 8:45 a.m. Since I was already in “work mode” I decided that I couldn’t train my completely trustworthy and capable colleague on how to do my job so I stuck around until 11 a.m. to finish something else he definitely could have handled for me. I like to call this the Martyr Complex (“I don’t want to burden anyone else with having to do my job”)” but what it really is is being a paranoid egomaniac (“No one else can do this the way I can do this”).
I know I either read in the New Yorker, or heard on NPR last year that Americans take less vacation time than Europeans because Americans either refuse or are discouraged to cross train with their coworkers on what they actually do all day long. Europeans are all up in their coworkers business, so they can take substantially more time off with no need to check into the office.
So I guess my refusal to leave at 7 a.m. to go the beach makes me a real patriotic American. After that, I figured since I was home already I should do laundry and clean my kitchen. So I didn’t leave my house until 3 p.m. and could no longer make it to Rhode Island.
I went to the Connecticut Shoreline in the summer and did not eat seafood.
I went to G-Zen where they got my takeout order wrong. I was the only customer in the joint but they still go it wrong and I didn’t check until I was at the beach. Why would anyone order vegan food instead of seafood at the shoreline in the summer? This one is on me.
I forgot that Branford’s motorists are crazy.
I’ve been to Branford twice before. Once with Johnna and once with Mike. Both of those times I was almost hit by cars crossing the street with the light. Now I know it’s crazy to think that when the light says “walk” you should just go ahead and walk, but I did both times and those Brandfordites let me know how wrong I was.
This time it wasn’t a crosswalk but the sidewalk. I was standing on a curb waiting to cross when a BMW (of course) going 60 around a corner almost clipped me.
By the time I left my house, drove the 45 minutes to Branford from Hartford, was sold the wrong order at G-Zen, and almost lost my life standing on a street corner, it was about 5p.m. when I finally rolled into the beach.
If You Go To Branford
You don’t have to go to Branford before you go to the beach, I just thought it would be a good place to pick up a quick to-go meal to bring to the beach with me. I was wrong. But it’s still an awesome little town with lots to do. I hope to feature more Branford things soon. But yes, the drivers are loco.
Set your GPS to:
1096 Main Street
Branford, CT 06405
Park anywhere around the town green, just remember: crazy drivers.