Yesterday I was talking to Stella about the Provincetown airport. "They really fixed it up," she said. "it used to be so quirky."
I have no idea what to say. Used to be quirky?
I went to the Provincetown airport for the first time the other day. I'd never been there before because we generally fly out of Providence or Boston. Once or twice I've flown into the Hyannis airport and I've been to the Chatham airport because they serve breakfast there. But Provincetown? Never.
To get to it, you drive into Cape Cod National Seashore. The airport is in the midst of a National Park. You drive through sand dunes and scrub pines, passing signs for Beech Forest and Race Point. I was pretty sure I was on the wrong road most of the time, but didn't actually care because I spend entirely too little time driving through the National Seashore. I realized I was on the right road about the time I saw the airport sign glide past my window. I missed the turn because the sun was in my eyes - a funny thing since I thought I was driving east. I always think of driving east east east down the cape, but then it curls around and there you are, staring into the sun at the end of the day.
I turned around where the road splits - I think you go right for photo op 1 and left for photo op 2. If you want a lighthouse in your photo, go right.
Because I was totally Sunday driving through the park with top speeds of 20 mph, I was a teeny bit late. But that's okay because the parking lot fits about 50 cars and even if I had parked in the farthest space it would take under two minutes to get inside. I didn't park in the last space because the other two cars meeting the other two arriving passengers had pulled up to the curb. So I did too.
If you're handy with cartwheels, you could do three cartwheels between the front door and the gate. The fourth cartwheel would land you in the middle of the tarmac. There clearly is no room for a breakfast restaurant here, although there is a toy corner in the waiting nook.
As we sorted out the baggage issue (bags too big, plane too small, bags coming by fishing vessel?) someone comes and tells the man at the counter "I put the plane away." He says it in a way that makes me think he brushed it down, offered it some carrots and then put the seat cushion flotation devices away in the tack room.
I wish I had been on that plane instead of just meeting it. I would love to see the view as they landed in the middle of the park. I'd love to be one of the people coming and going and calling this airport home. I wish they served breakfast.