is what one of the books that i impulse-bought at La Guardia said, which is poignant about the first 3 hours of my weekend life in portland, maine.
night 1:
after a sketchy gypsy cab ride (we only found the hotel because i am the spawn of jim brister and was prepared with printed out step-by-step directions to my hotel) and a shower, i was informed by the sweet girl behind the counter that the busses don't run and the taxis don't understand. so, i wandered in the dark 6 miles back to the airport - encountering police and a milkshake stand and not encountering a single cab or bus - where i rented a cute yellow car and went joyriding along the coast.
day 2: after a leisure morning wandering around the waterfront and commissioning 3 large paintings for the auction from warner bros' resident sculptor who runs the smoothie bar, i took a ferry out to peaks island and spent a few hours circumnavigating the island on a free cruiser i rented out of a yard (pictured above! it was the only one not iced into the ground, and the only one with a basket and wide-set handlebars. thank you, universe).
check out the Cruiser Diaries entry slash documentary i made while on/near the cruiser (the chain fell off on the other side of the island, so i walked and propelled and coasted my way around). enjoy!