REID #56

jess took me to barre class recently - lotta girlinas

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SHORT: 

I love curmudgeons. Add a C to LGBTQ for curmudgeons. 

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MEDIUM: 

I had a dream that I met Ryan Murphy and rubbed his bald head like a lamp and then all my wishes came true, but I also became a deeply evil person. 

If I write a play about the Ryan Murphification of society, do you think he’ll sue me? What if I change his name to Myan Rurphy? Do any lawyers read this newsletter? Let me know.

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LONG: 

I went to Salem this weekend. And Concord, Mass.

What they don’t tell you about Salem, is that it will take you 3 hours to park, you will have to walk 1.5 miles from the parking lot to the city center, and when you arrive, you will immediately see 200 white women in witch hats with shirts that say stuff like: “Pumpkin Spice Me In The Hocus Pocus”.

You will also see a 70 year old man with green face paint dressed as Frankenstein and grown people dressed as Scooby Doo’s gang (cut to my girlfriend going, under her breath, “and here comes Velma” when a girl dressed as Velma walked past us, 3 minutes after the rest of her crew did). 

You will also see 100 men with no necks wearing Red Sox hats.

And a man dressed as Captain Jack Sparrow singing “Don’t Worry About A Thing” into a feedback-y mic who then will say “Thank You, Harry Potter” to a little boy in a cape who just dropped a quarter into a spooky bucket at his feet (a transaction that will make you laugh til you cry upon witnessing because you’re so delirious from the drive up and the parking marathon and the lack of food and zero bathroom access because every line for every shop is as long as all the noses of the witches who died in Salem put together).

It was Disneyland. And ComicCon. And Hell. All wrapped in a colonial bow.

Also… every shop in Salem had Pride Merch? And signs that said, “I love you just the Gay you are”. I tried to get a picture and make fun of it, but I was standing in line behind two lesbians in witch hats who were earnestly “aw-ing” about it, so I held myself together like a kid in class trying not to laugh (speaking of, one of my classmates discovered Jess’s Twitter the other day and laughed so hard at her tweets during class that he almost had to remove himself as to not be disruptive). 

Anyway, the lesbians behind us took it upon themselves to tell us that they were artists, but “off the clock” that weekend, and we refused to ask them what kind of art they did and what kind of “clock” they usually were on.

Oh, by the way, when I say “us” I am talking about me and my girlfriend Jess and her roommate Rachel who joined us on our romantic getaway. We continuously called her our “third” and, for the most part, she embraced it. At one point, we went to a shop in Salem to get cider because it was freezing. As we waited in the 40 ft. witch nose line, Rachel spotted some vials of “potion” and “spell juice” that you could purchase and drink for “success, love, and happiness”. We were all like, well, we could use some of THAT! So Rachel reached out and grabbed the vial and read the ingredients (Vinegar, Edible Glitter, Celery Something Something) and then said, “I’m too black for this” and put it back.

We continued our line-waiting with zero love or happiness. We did, however, have success at the front (THANK GOD. If they were out of mulled cider by the time we arrived at the counter I would’ve flipped over the entire spell juice table and burned down the historic Witch Haus we were in). 

On the way out of Salem, we walked by the witch graves, and a man in a Peter Pan costume danced around us. There’s nothing quite like thinking about women who were murdered/hanged/crushed as a green man-child shakes his little ass in your face. We are the descendants of the witches they couldn’t burn, but maybe they could’ve burned his descendants. 

I’m kidding.

Am I? 

He was giving off mad musical theater vibes. And in that moment I decided that we should abolish acting.

Just kidding. 

AM I? 

I can’t stop thinking about the tragedy on the Alec Baldwin movie set… 

Anyway, we left Salem and went to dinner in Boston. I always forget that Boston has the energy of a frozen knocked over half spilled bottle of Sam Adams on the curb who has just been put on trial for murder.

It was 8pm and we had a reservation at an Italian place but turns out reservations don’t mean shit in Boston, USA. After 40 minutes of standing, arms crossed, next to a picture of Jimmy Fallon and the restaurant owner, we decided to look for other options.

They were limited.

Turns out The North End is more like the North Pain In The Behind! It’s packed and there’s nowhere to eat or sit or breathe, and everywhere you look, there’s a girl freezing in a bodycon dress getting yelled at (lovingly?) by a 30 year old man in a Playboy shirt and Patriots hat who definitely was not in his high school’s GSA. 

Finally. FINALLY. An old man in a suit popped his head out of a door and told us he could seat us. He shepherded us in and touched all of our shoulders, and I didn’t even care. I was so hungry.

My gf even said, out loud, “that is the only man who is allowed to touch me without my consent”.

Amen.

After dinner, we  drove to a Sonesta hotel 30 minutes outside of Boston in some place with an S and OUgh Cester in its name and checked in. On the way up to our rooms, 4 white children with cornrows were sitting by the elevator and asked us “what’s up” and we were like, “what’s up? is we’ve been awake since 5am and in the car for 11 hours and earlier today I saw multiple adults in skeleton costumes canoodling in a town square where women were burned alive during the Civil War”.

We didn’t say that but our eyes did.

Then we showered and collapsed into the most comfortable beds we’ve ever slept in.

Oh, also, to note, Jess and I were in one room and Rachel was in another. They were supposed to be adjoining rooms, but, much like whatever happened to Salem between the Witch Trials and 2021– something went wrong.

In the morning, Rachel texted us that she was awake but Never Wanted To Leave This Bed Maroon 5 reference – and we agreed, but we NEEDED to get to Concord to see the Little Women Haus before heading back to New York (By “we”, I mean Jessica, who has a sick fascination with Little Women, specifically Bob Odenkirk in the most recent Little Women movie? I don’t get it, but as they say in Salem, love is love). 

We planned to get on the road at 9am, but I made us all late because legally had to watch Brandi Carlile’s performances on SNL. I did this the moment my eyes fluttered open and Jess (with eyes still closed) was like, “there’s nobody like her, name another singer like her” and I was like “I know”. And that’s what the definition of lesbianism is when you look it up in a textbook/dictionary.

On the way out of the hotel, we encountered another group of teenage boys (no cornrows this time) in Hockey gear getting ready for their big match.

If you are 30 minutes outside of Boston at a hotel, you will always see a group of teenage boys in hockey gear getting ready for their big match.

If you are at a rest stop in Connecticut, you will always see a tall, loud dad of 4 teen boys screaming “HEALTHY” as they walk around the gas station mini mart picking out snacks.

If you are in Greenwich CT, and walk into a Starbucks with no tits and say, “give me a Mocha Cookie Crumble Frappuccino with 2 espresso shots” the barista will get so overwhelmed.

These are things I learned on this trip.

We all peed at the Greenwich Starbucks but were freaked out by this tiny piece of poopy toilet paper that was in there prior to our arrival and wouldn’t flush no matter how hard we tried.

We r the children of the witches who u couldn’t burn who aren’t scared of spooky things but are terrified of a poopy piece of toilet paper that won’t flush!

I’m wrapping this up, I promise.

In Concord, Mass, we  ate at a cute cafe called Helen’s and were served by a 900 year old lady who we decided was probably THEE Helen. She asked us where we were from and we told her we were from Brooklyn and went to Salem and she asked if we dressed up and we said no we didn’t know that you were supposed to do that and she shook her head and then every single time she came back to the table with coffee and food she said, “next time wear costumes”. 

In Concord, we saw another teen in a Patriots hat and Playboy t-shirt walking around as if the fucking American Revolution didn’t happen there.

Then we saw Walden Pond, Thoreau’s grave, Alcott’s grave, Emerson’s grave, etc. and I had a panic attack about how I don’t write enough.

People put little pencils and pens on their graves which I thought was cute and nice.

If you’re reading this and I die before you, put a pencil or pen on my grave even though I don’t write much but this chaotic newsletter.

We also saw the graves of the Hoar Family and I made a hilarious never-been-done before joke about how me, Rachel, and Jess are sort of like a little whore family too. Just dead inside and not yet in the ground. 

I tried to city-map us to the Little Women house and it took us through someone’s backyard and the woods but we GOT THERE. With a little trespassing.

After the hike/LW Haus, we went to another cafe that had sign in the bathroom that said, “if you’re on a date and it’s not going well, come up to the counter and order an Angel Latte and we will help get you out of the situation”.

In New York the sign would say, “if you’re on a date and it’s not going well, tough titties.” 

I got a lemon poppyseed muffin.

Then 6 apple cider donuts.

I had already eaten:

A cookie dough donut.

A bagel.

A soft pretzel.

And gnocchi 

Within a span of 24 hours. 

Every gluten-free person just passed away from reading that list.

And for that, I am sorry.

I’ll bury you in the Hoar Family plot. 

Anyway, that was me and my gf and her roommate Rachel’s journey. We drove 100 hours to “see Fall” and I think we saw it. The drive was… something. We took Jess’s grandma’s car that only has the radio option no aux, aka we heard the same 8 songs over and over again:

Good 4 u x 100

Levitating x 100 

Before U Go x 90

Harry Styles (thank god) x 9 

Easy On Me (new Adele song that we didn’t know now we do) x 60

Senorita x 300 

Some song called “Shivers” by Ed Sheeran who I guess has Covid now 

Despite being trapped in this Top 40 purgatory, we sang along at top volume. At one point, the car started to fog up because of how hard we were belting our little faces off. 

Jess drove most of the way. I offered to drive, but everyone knew that’d be a crap show freak show.

The foliage was pretty. 

We saw many bizarre license plates. 

At one point Jess asked us if we knew “that famous line from Paranormal Activity 4 about a Prius” and we had to let her know that she was actually sitting in a car with two people who are normal and have never seen Paranormal Activity 4.

She got revenge on us for that comment when I talked about how someone I know has a PhD and she said, “Pretty Huge DICK?”I keep her around because she says things like this and also does things like dance to music with just her upper body/ shoulders in the cutest way, sort of like this. When she heard Shawn Mendee Seniorita song that I hate come on the radio she said, “she might have to go see him by herself when he comes to Brooklyn”, and I pictured her shimmying alone in the nosebleeds of Barclays Center and it warmed my heart – what a little freak. 

Our journey ended with 2 extra hours of traffic where finally a Phil Collins song came on the radio and Jess, again, said, “they don’t make music like this anymore, I mean, just listen to that piano” and we all agreed. Music today is only 8 songs and everyone’s whispering. Jess doesn’t know why people don’t “sing out” anymore: “Like, what? Are people afraid to share their voice? I’m not.”

As we pulled into her grandmother’s driveway to return the car, she said the following (and I am encouraging her to needle point it): 

If u have beautiful voice sing 

If I have beautiful words write 

If u have beautiful tits show them to the world like Sydney Sweeney

So tru, girl!

Anyway, we made it. We saw leaves. Fall. Foliage. And made it through hours and hours of traffic. Because we are strong. Boston Strong. Just kidding. We are New York neurotic. 

I refuse to edit this because it is late. I’m gonna get a note from one of my family members that says, “this week’s newsletter was long”. 

BUT GUESS WHAT. IT’S NOT LONGER THAN THE LINE TO USE THE BATHROOM IN SALEM MASS. SO YOU CAN STFU!

See you next Tuesday.

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Thank you for subscribing. If this is your first time reading the newsletter, read the archives. Sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s not – it’s very much like when people slip on ice.

Sincerely,

Reid

@rpopegram

@rpopetweets

Venmo: @rpope-venmo-26

Donate to The Audre Lorde Project

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