The Big Trip Part two

                        The former Union Station has gone thru many changes over the years.

                                              

In My Little Town

            Next stop Erie Pa. My brother Mike, his daughters and their kids live in the town we grew up in-why I don't know, I prefer the West Coast. Erie is a bit cleaner but still has a worn down, dilapidated look to it. It used to reign as a steel fabrication and shipping mecca but those days are long gone. It's mostly owned by  Erie Insurance, Hamot Hospital / UPMC  (University of Pittsburgh Medical Center) and Gannon University.

             I like the causal aura of traveling by train but really dislike Amtrak- the company that wants to die (see my previosu post) . The Lake Shore Limited, one of my least favorite routes has its limits. Traveling business class makes it bearable. The seats are roomier, the car is quiet with it's own cafe car and has wi-fi.

            I have a moment of anxiety while sitting in the cafe car and cover my face to have a good cry. A train attendant, a large black woman, taps me on the shoulder to make sure I'm alright. 

            "Claude is very intimidating," I quietly deflect the blame to the cafe attendant for my state. He is an imposing man with an authoritative air wrangling with an uncooperative cash register. She hands me a complimentary comfort kit : a fleece blanket, eyeshade, ear plugs and inflatable neck pillow. My mood improves instantly.

            I arrive in Erie in the middle of a warm, muggy night. The train station used to be a glorious entrance, now it's just  a neglected way station. A shabby waiting room down a hall with cracked floors, unfinished painted walls and bad lighting. The canopy over the platform is rusty and the windows of the enclosure to the stairs leading down to street level are broken. Every other station I have seen has been renovated or cleaned up so it's an embarrassing introduction.            

            The centerpiece to this leg of the trip is the Labor day Weekend Beach Party. A traditional end to summer where people pitch tents and campers along the lake shore at Sara's Campground next to the entrance to Presque Isle State Park and just down the hill from Waldameer Amusement Park. We drop off some gear in the morning and are greeted with a torrential downpour, the wind churning the lake into a froth.

            Afterwards, on the way to see Amanda, Mike's daughter, there is a dramatic bolt of lightening  quickly followed by thunder. I am thrilled with the "Welcome to Erie" greeting. Fortunately the threat to ruining the weekend passes quickly.

                                    The RV camper, I hope the brakes don't fail.

            The weekend is one long fest of eating, drinking and playing in the water. Lake Erie used to be dubious for swimming and aquatic life. Fish were known to have a couple extras eyes and the water smelled rank. There was an aggressive clean up campaign years ago and to my surprise the water is cleaner and clearer. Another surprise, Mike presents me with a bike I can use while in town.

            "There are bike trails in Erie?" I am shocked. The existence of any bike trails in a town that is so spread out, one has to travel a considerable distance to the nearest grocery store is positively stunning. In fact Mike lives a few blacks from the Bayfront Parkway that has a lovely path leading to the Marina and downtown is a half mile in the other direction.

                                             Two old broads, Alisa and Bonnie.

 

            I decide to try it out the bike when my best friend calls. I've known Bonnie since fourth grade and she currently works with her son Roger doing a "pirate cruise". Not today though because "the pirate boat broke down." she tells me. So much for the romance of piracy on the high seas, or in this case chugging around the harbor on a diesel powered boat.

            We have lunch of leftover sausage stew made by Mike- who is actually a great cook- in a tiny grove of bamboo in his back yard. Yes, that's right, bamboo can grow anywhere, even in Erie.

            The next day I get the chance to bike downtown to find a replacement for an earring I lost and I can't help smiling at getting around the way I do back home. I pedal past the former Baldwin Building at 10th and State Street.

          It was recently sold for $174,000. That's not a misprint, that's how bad the real estate market is.

        The Boston Store, once a grand department store has been turned into low income housing that unfortunately, is more dangerous inside than outside because of drugs and crime. Pity, I have fond memories of the place. Thank God the Warner theatre is still there and being used.

                                   When I was a kid it cost fifty cents to see a movie here.

            Mike is busy with work so I bike down to the marina to take the Pirate Cruise back in service. It's all silly fun and Roger, who is a gifted actor, leads the kids on board with gusto.

                                      Roger Dobry-pirate, dig the authentic sandals.

            Later, I have a Cuban sandwich at Woody's by the harbor and watch the restored flagship Niagra dock in front of the Maritime Museum.

        I caught the last boat taxi of the day across the harbor to the penisula and bike 2.5 miles to the beach party in sweltering humidity.

       A note about the Battle of Erie. Historians like to dress it up as all heroic with Commander Perry crying "Don't give up the ship". Well he did flee his ship the Lawrence because the British were bombing it to pieces while The Niagara hung back under the command of Lt. Eliot. I imagine Perry was pretty pissed as he fled the crippled ship in a dingy to the Niagara.

      "Commander Perry, thank God you're alri-" Eliot greets him.

      "Why the fuck aren't you moving in for the kill?" Perry cuts him off.

      "Um, well I was waiting for the wind to-" But Perry will have none of his lame ass excuses.

      " It is in our favor dickhead, now move in and commence firing." What's left of the British fleet is toast. End of battle.

            I'm sure that's how it happened.

 

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Next up: Beach Blanket Bingo