The day began much like the others had: first breakfast, then some time on the beach, then lunch, before finally setting time aside for a nap—or at least quiet time. After my cousins’ nap—and my questing time—it was all hands on deck to prepare for the outing.
We would be sitting out on a lawn to watch the baseball game, so Grandma Rose insisted we take two picnic blankets and enough chairs for all of the adults. Because the game started around dinner time, she leaned fully into the picnic theme—sandwiches, drinks, snacks, and more all packed into a cooler.
As an added bonus, Grandpa Milton finagled a trip to the candy store as part of the outing. That, of course, got Olivia and Marcus super excited. Aunt Kat looked resigned to the fact that her kids were about to be bouncing off walls for the rest of the day. Uncle Dave was as happy as all of us children—I vaguely remembered he had a sweet tooth.
We piled into two cars—I went with my grandparents while my cousins rode with their parents. I sat in the middle of the back seat of Grandma’s ancient car with just a lap belt. I slid from side to side on every turn—the belt barely keeping me centered. The wildly unsafe trip lasted about half-an-hour before the car parked in a public lot.
I got out of the car feeling slightly nauseous. The parking lot ran about a block in length behind all of the shops that faced the main street of the town we were in—Norwich, according to Grandpa Milton. Uncle Dave parked one space over and joined the three of us in walking through the parking lot and to the main street.
“Hold hands while we cross,” Aunt Kat warned before crossing to the other side of the parking lot to where there was a sidewalk.
I chased Olivia and Marcus down the sidewalk as soon as we were safe enough that Aunt Kat let go of our hands. My cousins shrieked with laughter as we ran to the corner and back to the adults. We kept running back and forth—almost bumping into other people a couple of times—before Uncle Dave put an end to our fun by bribing Olivia and Marcus with the money they would need in the candy store.
The main street was flanked on both sides by two-story buildings that had a storefront on the ground floor and apartments on the upper floor. As we walked towards the candy store, we passed several antique stores, a couple galleries, one bar, and a combination photography and framing store. It was definitely geared towards tourists rather than people who lived by the shore year round.
A huge smile lit my face when the candy store came into view. Bull Sweet—as the store was called—had large windows with a fantastical beach scene built out of candy sitting behind the glass. I entered along with my cousins and Uncle Dave. The other three made it clear that Uncle Dave was responsible for us kids while the other adults went to get something more up their alley—fudge, probably.
“Alright, kids,” Uncle Dave said once we were inside. “You have enough money for about a pound of candy so get what you like. I’ll help you weigh it so you know how much you have left.”
Olivia and Marcus nodded before racing off. Uncle Dave stopped me before I could join them.
“Oh, and Eddy, try to stay under what your parents gave you. I can cover your extra, but try not to go over, ok?”
I nodded. Satisfied, Uncle Dave went to watch over my cousins—and get his own candy. I took the time to look around the store. A rainbow colored assortment of candy was stacked high on shelves. About half of the store was dedicated toward loose candy—the sort I was most interested in—while the other half was an eclectic mix of regional and international candy bars and other packaged sweets.
I took a paper bag and wandered through the loose candy section for the next twenty minutes, filling it up with everything from chocolate seashells to candy buttons to strawberry laces. When I had everything I wanted, I joined the line at the register. After paying for my candy—and ensuring my change was correct—I waited by the door for the rest of my family to finish. Grandpa Milton and Aunt Kat were waiting outside so I went outside to hang with them.
“Where’s Grandma Rose?” I asked.
“I think she’s looking at a painting,” he shrugged.
I nodded. That was on brand for her. I hoped she wouldn’t get too absorbed with looking at art and antiques like that one time I remembered hearing about from Dad. Thankfully, she came to join us at about the same time as Uncle Dave and my cousins finished their shopping and exited the store. We walked back to the cars and piled back into them.
The baseball team’s—the Norwich Clams—field was a short drive away. The parking accommodations were rather dusty—being a flat gravel area with no markings. Our two car caravan queued behind the line of cars waiting to park and took neighboring spots when it was finally our turn. I slid out of the car once the car next to mine had finished parking. After we grouped up, we all headed towards the ticket window with all of our gear in tow.
The stands for fans barely wrapped from first to third. If I had to guess, it could hold maybe five thousand fans on a good day. Behind the outfield was a hill with a large scoreboard that served as the picnic area and where we were ultimately going.
I followed my grandparents through the turnstiles with my bag of candy. The inside of the stands was just as plain as everything else—a rather boring concrete tunnel with a couple concession stands down each baseline and another across from where we had entered behind home plate. We walked down the right-hand tunnel and out onto the lawn.
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Grandma Rose picked out a good place and directed the others to help her set up the blankets and chairs. The two blankets were laid out next to each other and slightly overlapping. The cooler sat right in the middle of that overlap, helping to keep the blankets flat against the grass. The four chairs were arranged at the back so that the adults would be able to see over our heads. Nothing held down the front, though I supposed that my cousins and I were unreliable and mobile weights that would do the job well enough. Maybe the short grass and the blanket would form some kind of Velcro bond and stick enough to prevent a light breeze from disturbing the blankets. I shrugged and started to eat from my bag of candy.
“Save room for dinner,” Grandma Rose admonished upon seeing me—and my cousins—eating candy.
“I’m hungry,” I declared.
“Then take a sandwich from the cooler?”
I mentally shrugged again before following her advice. The sandwich I picked out was my favorite of the options available to me—a ham and cheese on white bread. Maybe it was basic, but that was one of the best tasting sandwiches out there!
I munched on my sandwich and sipped on cold water from a bottle. My cousins chased each other—and some nearby kids—around the legs of the scoreboard. When they tired of running, they spun around as quickly as they could before making a decent impression of a very drunk fool. They stumbled and fell when the dizziness overtook them, rolling down the hill and running back up to do it all again. It looked like fun to me, but I preferred to keep my dinner inside my stomach and not have it blasted all over the side of the hill.
When the sun got lower in the sky—and my sandwich was finished—the game began. After standing for the national anthem, the speakers announced the players and their starting positions. I gave the game a passing glance every now and then. As much as I loved the game itself, there were times where an awful lot of nothing happened. I was hopeful at the end of one of the innings that a pop fly to the outfield would get tossed over the fence for the kids to fight over. It didn’t happen. Even when one of the teams hit a homer, it landed too far away for me to have a chance at getting it.
Around the time the seventh inning stretch came around, the sun finally set and we were under the lights. The ground behind the scoreboard was in deep shadow while the front was well illuminated. I saw many people who had glow sticks and glowing bracelets and necklaces dancing in and out of the darkness. I had half a mind to join them, but I was quite content sitting on the warm blanket and watching the game.
The game was close to the end—requiring an extra inning of play to determine the winner. Die-hards cheered when the Clams socked a ball over the fence to dead center. This one was close enough that I shot up and ran towards the spot where it fell. It bounced at a strange angle—maybe from the spin it had—and shot off to my left into a teen’s glove. I felt a bit bummed but saw him hand it to a little girl who looked overjoyed. I went back to the blanket to await the fireworks.
It took ten minutes for the field to clear and for the staff to roll out the carts of pyrotechnics for the show. I lay sideways on one of the blankets looking up ready for the first sparks to light the sky. A soft thud followed by a streak of light through the air alerted me to the first firework of the show. It blossomed with a bang into red light at the peak of its flight.
I plugged my ears and watched the show as a rainbow of lights bloomed and rapidly faded. The flurry of flashes waxed and waned as did the number of reports—I hated those. My favorite were the ones that seemed to fall like sparkling rain. Those weren’t as loud and really brought home the majesty of fireworks. I lay and enjoyed each and every thump and bang for the entire fifteen minute show. At the end, I clapped along with the rest of the crowd.
I yawned and shivered while the adults picked up the chairs and blankets. Marcus somehow managed to fall asleep as soon as the fireworks show ended and was being carried by Uncle Dave. Grandpa had me carry one of the folding chairs since my hands were no longer being occupied with my candy bag—it had been unceremoniously stuffed in the cooler. I obliged and we followed the crowd out of the front gate and towards the parking lot.
I nearly joined Marcus in sleeping on the way home, but I made it on account of all of the sugar I’d eaten. I took some time to check my laptop before bed. I closed it and lay in bed. Tomorrow I would be going home. It had been a great end to my vacation. It had been fun for sure, but it was definitely time to go home and get back to farming experience.
I thought again about the extras I could tack on with Restart I and whether or not they would be worthwhile. The hit to monster level wasn’t too bad, but the amount of experience was definitely a bit onerous. I decided to keep it in the back of my mind a little longer. I had at least a few years before I needed to decide one way or the other. With my mind cleared, I closed my eyes and promptly slipped off to sleep.