ON THE ROAD AGAIN . . .

I’m not sure how or when a trip to Annapolis, MD got on my calendar . . . but I can now add that quaint state capital to my list of been-there-done-that places. The temperature was pushing a withering 100 degrees during my evening/morning visit, but I still managed to walk the heart-of-downtown streets three times and mostly liked what I saw . . . including the Starbucks in the cellar of the Maryland Inn. It was a cool haven . . . with a cool vibe as it was once a happening jazz club called the King of France Tavern. The wall-hangings include photos and clippings of jazz greats who played there—Teddy Wilson, Chet Baker, Charlie Byrd . . . and my old friend Gene Bertoncini. In fact, a clipping from 1979 previewing Gene’s performance there with bassist Michael Moore prompted me to cue up their album Two in Time on my iPod as I sat there: time travel!

I wish that I could have been transported so easily on my drive down to Annapolis. Whenever I’m on a road trip—no matter where I am—I keep my eye out for Prince Edward Island license plates: it drives my wife crazy, but I always assume that I would know anyone from that small common ground. Well, this time I ended up getting a long close-up look at a PEI license plate while sitting behind a tractor-trailer for a full hour in virtually standstill traffic in the vicinity of Lyme, CT. I didn’t get a look at the driver, though: when the jam finally broke, I was off to the races . . .

My lucky wife had flown down to Annapolis on Monday, so she was spared that traffic. But the trip back to Boston was even worse—we lost easily two hours sitting in a bumper-to-bumper gridlock trying to get onto the George Washington Bridge in NYC. According to the car thermometer, the outside temperature was 108 degrees—so hot that the GPS device in the front window shut down . . . not that we needed it at the rate we were moving!

But the trip back from Annapolis did have an upside—an overnight in Philadelphia . . . a city I had never visited before, but would happily return to again. Mostly we just wandered the streets—no agenda beyond getting a feel for the place. We had a hotel room right in the center of the city—on the 27th floor looking out on City Hall. But the real highlight was our evening of random wandering that included first a fine pint at a fine pub called The Black Sheep and, much later, a terrific meal at Lolita, a Mexican restaurant on 13th Street. Like a number of restaurants we checked out, Lolita has a BYOB license—which we were not prepared for. So imagine our delight when our server said that she would see if anyone had left anything behind that we might enjoy . . . and sure enough, she showed up at our table with a fairly substantial quantity of Jose Cuervo tequila. The food itself was outstanding—but with tequila thrown into the mix (as it were), we ended the night truly in Margaritaville!

The next morning, before hitting the road back to Boston, we wandered around Philly both on foot and by car . . . for a couple of very hot but very pleasant hours. I found the heart of the city stunningly attractive—almost Parisian in the grand scale of its buildings (and of the architectural styles). I kept on thinking “Philadelphia, Here I Come!”—I hope to get back there sooner rather than later . . .