For you out-of-towners, this is the sign oft-quoted during any sarcastic situation in Maine:
Safety Dance. Danny, I think you've met your match.
In the typical fashion of a rock star, I was only able to make a one-day appearance. Because, seriously, after the bottles of prosecco are empty, girl's gotta make an Irish goodbye and head for the nearest dirt road out of town.
The ride home through Maine looked something like this:
|Don't hit the moose!|
On Sunday, my cousin Bethany got married in downtown Newburyport. She ran a little late for the ceremony, and the menfolk made conversation with the JP and . . .
Bethany was seriously glowing. She looked like a little doll. Beautiful.
|Michael, she's all yours, guy. Be good to her. Or we'll kick your ass.|
The view of downtown Newburyport from the honeymoon suite. Nicole and I went to gather up her things and ended up chillin on the sweet deck, drinking a beer and laughing. Wouldn't you? Aaaand we were caught by the newlyweds. Yup, classy.