On the way, we stopped at the Hatteras lighthouse. It is the tallest brick lighthouse in operation that has been moved to another site. Or something. Matt, Rhiannon, and I elected to climb it's massive 257 steps to get a view of everything. Along the way, people kept stopping off at the windows gasping for breath and talked about how great the exercise was, but that it was not worth $6 to do it every day. A man stood on one landing videotaping everyone who passed. At the top, the view was as excellent as promised and Jenna and Aaron took our picture from the grounds below.
Going down turned out to be much slower than up, mostly because people were reluctant to heed the advice of the guards encouraging people to pass along the way.
Our speedy start was obliterated by probably an hour an a half waiting at the ferry terminal. Despite the inconvenience of waiting, the line was fantastically entertaining. A large group of dancing touchy drunk people congregated around a few cars ahead of us. They were blasting music from their car and drinking like crazy. In fact, random new people occasionally crossed the lot to join their fiesta. In fact, the entire population of Okracoke-goers appeared to embrace the drinking lifestyle. Everyone seemed to have some sort of alcohol. The woman next to us drank as she picked her toes outside her truck's window and mistook Aaron (wearing a newly-purchased souvenir t-shirt) for Andre Agassi.
A couple of boats later, we were on a ferry for the island and driving to the museum. To greet us, one of the staffers stepped outside and removed the "open" sign as we entered the parking lot.
At this point, it was too early for dinner in the abandoned town, so we walked around some of the stores and discovered that it was a local day of drinking. One mother told her child that they couldn't go to the next activity because "mommy needed a drink." Rhiannon later coined the island "Rumancoke" which was exceptionally appropriate.
When we exhausted our interest in tourist shops (~6 min), we went back to the restaurant (the Pelican -- different from the Black Pelican) bar for off-menu appetizers (gouda bites), drinks, and for Aaron, a plate of twenty-five fifteen-cent shrimp. Our server, James, wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but his beautiful vacant eyes (perhaps a P.E.V. victim) endeared him to the ladies of our group.
Dinner was pricer than expected and it turns out that only Jenna likes Southern-style crab cakes. [sidenote: amazingly, the restaurant staff are fans of early Death Cab for Cutie.] After our meal, we decided to get out of town as quickly as possible to get in line for the ferry home. Not as if anything on the island was still open after 7 anyway. Unfortunately, we did not get to hear anyone speaking the island's legendary dialect -- aside from the locals who started every sentence with a pirate-like "aargh!"
Again, we waited in a long line, listened to various iPod D.J. sets. This time, we were without the feely drunks on the boat. Instead, there was a van with a DVD player and a car blasting karaoke-worthy Journey. Aaron gave a thrilling rendition of Prince's "Pussy Control."
Despite the number of things that seemed annoying, everything being closed, or not as expected, with longer waits we turn out to be a really funny group and completely able to entertain ourselves in the face of adversity. Kind of like high school, I guess.
At home, more games -- Settlers of Catan and the Great Brain Robbery. During Settlers, there was some intense, unspecified Matt-Jenna trade rivalry, and Jenna won.
I eked out a win in the GBR with a fight for an acrobat brain.