When I rank holidays, the 4th of July falls just short of Christmas. Christmas trumps the fourth because I spend it with my family and there are far more traditions that fall into its category. But America’s birthday is quite the summer celebration.
I always get the night off from work, which means my nanny work day ends at 10:30 AM – the perfect time to head to the beach and take part in 4th festivities. My friend, Connor Harrington has joined me for the past two fourth of July’s on the Vineyard- taking advantage of having a place to stay on an Island I’ve had the pleasure of introducing him to.
4th of July 2012
It’s not uncommon for me to get a text mid-winter of Connor’s 4th of July bathing suit choice- as he’s quite the planner. I’d say we’re complete opposites, but that could be why we’re friends so I guess it benefits the both of us. Despite my lack of organization and planning, the fourth of July is an exception. Last fourth, I even purchased festive underwear.
July 4th, 2013
“Meet you at Elove 10:30?” Connor texted me.
“Yes,” I’d eagerly reply as I finished up my morning routine: I’d bring the kids to Beach Club then walk the empty stroller back to their house where I’d get my bike to go meet Connor. Walking through town with an empty stroller each morning always provoked the cheesy remarks that very quickly lost their humor.
“Looks like ya lost something”
“Where’s the kid?”
I kept my sunglasses on to avoid eye contact- as I learned that’s what brought on the jokes. Avoid eye contact- get back quicker.
Connor & Gary
I’d hop onto my brown Fuji Cruiser, throw my bag in my basket and pedal happily to Espresso Love where I’d wait for Connor to get off the #1 Bus. Connor waltzed off the bus, grabbed Gary (his bike) from the front and we enjoyed two Large Iced Coffees, Connor’s treat (he’s a victim of the Corporate world.) We discussed the day’s itinerary: Beach, parade, nap, fireworks, go out.
“There’s Portuguese man-of-wars at Norton Point,” I told him.
“WHAT!?” he practically spit out his coffee, his face struck with a look of utter horror. Connor’s not a fan of his plans being changed. We had to weigh our options. If we went to Norton Point, which was where everyone else would be regardless of the giant jellyfish warnings- we might not be able to swim. What is the fourth of July without swimming? The choice became easy. We had to go somewhere else. Being on an Island, this wasn’t a huge issue, but it also wasn’t the ideal scenario.
After quite the consideration, we decided it was in our best interest to avoid getting stung and go to Tashmoo where some other friends were. We filled our coolers, got our suits and waited for our ride. I recognized Connor’s suit from his text in January after Vineyard Vines’ annual sale.
HAPPY 4TH
The day was pretty consistent with past fourths:lots of beer, cooking out, spike ball, Kan Jam and fresh oysters. It didn’t matter where we were- I was with my best friends and it was the 4th of July- a recipe for success.
I sat in a raft with a cooler in the middle, thinking of what an incredible invention it was (it wasn’t mine.) My feet swished around in the cool Atlantic water and my hand grasped an iced cold Carona. Life is good. I sat there, letting the cold beer quench my thirst, splashing water on myself whenever I’d get too hot. I pulled my Ray Bans on to avoid being blinded by the sun to see where Sheri. Ash and Connor were. I wasn’t surprised when I saw they were swimming to a boat that was anchored. FOMO overcame me and I downed my Carona before giving up the best raft invention ever made.
We swam towards the boat being welcomed from afar as we swam. Springsteen blared from the speakers and it was clear they were celebrating the 4th accordingly. We stayed on the boat awhile having typical acquaintance conversations: Are you from here? Where do you work? Is this your first summer here? Etc. Ash, Sheri and I stood on the edge of the boat, toes curled over the side we’d leap and let the chill of the water refresh our sun kissed bodies.
“ Oh shit, it’s 3:00,” someone said, referencing that there was no way we’d make it back to Edgartown for the parade.
“Let’s just stay here,” I suggested greedily, knowing that between 4 PM and 5 PM are my favorite times at the beach. It’s the most beautiful time of day. The sun casts a brilliant shimmer over the Ocean letting the water dance with glistening diamonds in and out of the shore. My suggestion worked and we enjoyed the late afternoon on the boat: jumping in, listening to music and celebrating the good ol’ U S of A.
Late afternoon at the beach.
After the beach portion of the day our priorities become napping, showering and eating all before the fireworks. We got dropped off at Sheri’s house to take advantage of the outdoor shower. If you haven’t experienced showering outside- please add this to your life to do list, it’s amazing.
With those priorities in check, Connor and I needed to go to my place to drop off our beach stuff, re-group a little and get our stuff to go out. I had told Connor of some of my hitchhiking tales but I’m not quite sure he believed that I did it regularly. As bad ass as it might sound, it really isn’t on the Vineyard. I wouldn’t trust it anywhere else, but the little island is full of friendly people that are used to seeing people standing on the side of the road with their thumbs up. It’s pretty awesome that its openly accepted and I’ve met some neat people by needing lifts places (Sorry Dad.)
Hitch Hike stance.
Unwilling to make the trek from Sheri’s house to mine (about two miles) I threw my thumb up and proved Connor wrong. The third car that passed picked me up, a black Jeep with a woman driving- her car slowed to a stop.
“Where ya headed?” she asked me.
“Just down the road a little, right across from Morning Glory,” I said.
“Great, Having a good 4th? ” she asked in a cheerful tone and we talked about what a great holiday it was before I hopped out of the car, shut the door and thanked her.
Shanty with friends
Connor arrived at my place about a half hour later. Despite my efforts, he refused to hitchhike to the fireworks so we took our bikes: Gary and my Brown Fuji Cruiser. We met up with Ash and Sheri in town, all awaiting the fireworks. We were early enough to get a spot on the Shanty deck and met up with some other friends, got a couple drinks and waited for the show.
“Well….I hear them,” Connor said. I heard them too but they sure weren’t in the sky. The sounds echoed but there were no fireworks visible. The fog was too thick, it cast a shield over what should’ve been beautiful lights reflecting on the harbor water. Thanks to the fog, this year’s show was just audio. Great show.
We stayed at the Seafood Shanty all night, singing and dancing while enjoying our final hours of the Fourth of July. I knew I had work at 7:30 the next morning so we dismissed any after party opportunities. Connor and I got Gary and my Brown Fuji Cruiser and started what should’ve been a 10 minute ride home.
I was ahead of Connor, hands on my handle bars and my flip flops pressed against my pedals. I was thinking about how despite the change of plans and no fireworks, it was still a successful holiday. Suddenly, my thoughts were rudely interrupted. The gears on my bike began to slow and at first I thought it was just me. I wasn’t that out of shape. The pedaling became impossible and my feet couldn’t move forward anymore, the back gears on my bike were stuck. I stopped, shining my bike light towards Connor to make sure he was still behind me- he was. He rode up next to me, wondering why I had stopped.
“I’m stuck… like I can’t move,” I said before I tried to hop off the bike but couldn’t. My body shifted to one side as fabric pulled against my waist. I was still connected to the bike.
“Oh my god, your skirt,” Connor said. My skirt? The long white skirt I had on was raveled around all of my gears, stuck into my chain- while still on me.
“I’ll try and rip it off,” he said before leaning down and tugging at the white skirt. There was no hope, nothing was ripping and I was essentially glued to the bike. Unless I wanted to waddle, straddling my bike that wouldn’t pedal there was no way for me to move with the skirt on, on the bike.
“I have to take it off,” I said as Connor was now in a deep fit of laughter, unable to utter his own words. I maneuvered my body out of the skirt and took a closer look. The entire skirt was raveled into the chain, back tire and gears.
There I was, unintentionally mooning the world while sporting my American flag thong in the middle of the bike path. Each time a car went by Connor’s laughter amplified and I tried to cover up my nudity. By July- my tan lines are so excessive that I can only hope it appeared that I was wearing white underwear.. that’s what I’ve told myself at least.
“I can’t walk my bike home like this! I’m practically naked!” I shouted at Connor who was still unable to get it together.
“Take Gary,” he said keeled over in a deep belly laugh. Then, we traded bikes. Fully clothed Connor walked my bike all the way back and I hopped onto his bike, pedaling as fast as I could to spare myself anymore embarrassment. Buying festive underwear had never backfired so badly.
A couple days went by and my bike would jerk with each motion of the pedal. One, two, three, halt.. four, five.. halt. It had to have looked like I was possessed the way the gears made my legs jerk. I tried to prolong going to the bike shop to get the skirt of out my chain, but it became unavoidable. The guy at the shop looked at me with confusion.
“How..did.. this happen?” he asked. I explained the whole story from start to finish and the guys at the shop just laughed, admitting they hadn’t seen anything like it. I had done some serious damage- they had to take the entire back gear apart. I watched as they pulled chunks of the skirt out of the metal gears.
“Hey, at least you had festive underwear on,” he said. Touché.
The Fuji Cruiser lived on!
Sea her go. 
This post was very humorous to say the least. I remember you telling me about that bike ride, but reading about it shed a whole new light on this 4th of July adventure!
I know, but I am new at this!
Love this story!!! I seriously am so jealous of where you live. I think that your pictures really helped make your story, especially the one of you hitch hiking. It takes a little while to get to the meat of the story (which I am assuming is the bike/nudity hahha) but it still has a nice relaxed flow.
Keep it up, I really love your blog!
I think you did a good job trying to convey the entire day in one story, but to me it felt really sporadic. I think, considering the title, you might have wanted to focus on the moment you titled the post about — and skip the details of the rest of the holiday. Maybe focusing on characterization a bit more would help, as most of this particular post is exposition. Trying to do so without jumping from one party scene, to a party scene somewhere else would help with continuity, too! Also, part of your about page tells us that the blog is about travel — so do indeed focus on showing us the scenery of Martha’s Vinyard before the event. (I used to live out on Cape Cod, and both Martha’s Vinyard & Nantucket are awesome. I wish I could go back, but I’ve just recently moved to Oswego-Practically-Canada, NY and won’t be returning to New England for a long time yet.) While the blog could definitely be about your funny stories whilst traveling, telling more about each location could possibly bring in more readers, too! Good luck, and Keep Writing!