Well, I seemed to have dropped a thread that I had meant to pick up. That was about my August 1993 trip out to Montauk and what had happened on it.  See  Camp Hero Cross Point.

Well, earlier I said that I had asked my higher self if it was in the best interest to fo out to Montauk for August 12th. I asked for a single white feather as the sign. A couple of days later, on a weekend, I was at a friend’s house. I walked to the front door and looked down. On the floor was a single large white feather. Okay, I gathered that this might be a “yes”. So, the next week I looked up accommodations. Now, this was only two weeks before August 12th and I had read that usually everything is booked up at that time. But, I did find a potential lodging in the form of a bed and breakfast. I contacted the proprietor (the one who had the experience in Host Story. She happened to have a vacancy from August 11th to August 13th since they fell on weekdays mostly. And the room was reasonably priced for the area.
I booked it right there.

I started out early on the 11th with not just a little trepidation since this was going back to the scene of the crime and a calculated risk as well. I had a rather uneventful trip in a Ford Escort with an over heating problem. I had to vent the excess heat by turning the car’s heater on. But, despite that I made it to my destination.

I was feeling an odd kind of fear plus exhilaration. Instead of running away from the possible danger, I was running towards it.

When I passed the power towers there, it felt as if I had broken through an invisible barrier. I saw that Sage radar tower which gave me an odd feeling of foreboding.

I found the B&B with no problem even though it was tucked away in one of the streets just past the center of town.

I had a room there where the walls were half glass. This was not the most secure accommodation that I could have wished for. I was all about locking things (my car,the room) up even though my host told me that no one locked up there. Here’s where I want to say La Di Da…

That night, after dinner, I was driving back towards the
place that I was staying. On the way there, I saw a young blonde boy hitching to get a ride towards the point. I wondered about him on such a night. But, I didn’t stop. I just kept driving.

I drove onto the wrong street. It was dark and it was easy to mistake one street for another. I saw a dog run in front of my car and, unable to avoid it, I hit it with the car. I stopped to check on the dog to see if it was ok. There were people there that were wondering why I stopped and how unusual it was for me to do so. I was told by one of them that it was a neighbor’s, who wasn’t around that night, dog. The person said that he was expecting it to happen some time, which it did. I checked on the dog and it was only a bit bruised and relatively unharmed. It even licked me. I was so relieved.  No one else seemed too concerned.  I call them the Stepford people.

That night, I even got to lie on the beach with a chair that was provided by my host ans watch the meteor shower through the holes between the clouds. It was quite dramatic.

More to come…