I spent all of last week vacationing in Rhode Island, a state previously visited as a mere day tripper; a paying customer at the Newport mansions of the mega-rich from another Age; a fast ferry passenger to minuscule Block Island, cluttering up the harbor bars, cafes, and shops for an afternoon before returning to the mainland with only a lighthouse fridge magnet to show for his adventure. I have visited Providence, too, briefly, but the experience was not providential for me or the city.
This time I traveled to Narragansett, named after the tribe who lived there before the area was settled by colonial curmudgeon Roger Williams and his friends. For a coastal town, Narragansett has a distinctly suburban vibe, epitomized by the fee of ten dollars per person charged to walk on the town beach, meaning frugal vacationers drive to nearby Matunuck for their sunbathing. The facilities are excellent, as are the sand and the surf and the adjacent oyster bar. Wickford village is well worth visiting and the 'Rise' American pale ale offered by Whalers Brewing Company of Wakefield is perhaps a little too drinkable.
So that is my snapshot of Narragansett, make of it what you will, and an excuse for this blog's recent lack of updates. Regular readers, if there are any, should appreciate the factual tone of this particular post for next week will surely mark a return to nonsense and downright lies. So until then, probably Wednesday or Thursday, I bid you the traditional Rhode Island farewell of a quick wave of the hand accompanied by a raised eyebrow
