If you missed Part I, click here.
I know y’all are waiting on baited breath from yesterday’s cliffhanger. I also know that the title of this post makes no sense, sort of.
We made it to Havre de Grace, and our hopes were high. It was a cute, if small, town. Some of the shops/antique stores were open for business so we browsed. Ted found a cool Freemason mug from the 1950’s.
We were told that the best place for crabs was a seafood place across town, and off we went. We pulled up and parked beside what appeared to be a dive. That’s okay by us. You can find some great food in a dive. We got a table, placed our beer order and asked about the price of crabs. And, we were quickly disappointed when the waitress informed us that you have to have a reservation to get crabs? What? I guess we weren’t far enough south of the Mason Dixon. Since, we were starving we ordered a few appetizers. Ted went to use the Men’s Room, and that ended our disappointment. Apparently the facilities were filthy. It probably ended up a good thing we were denied our crabs. The dive was not a dive, but a dump. We prayed to the No Food Poisoning Please gods, ate our overpriced, mediocre crab fritters, frozen onion rings and under seasoned coleslaw and got the hell out of dodge hoping to find another place on the way home where we could find some crabs. Which we didn’t.
What we did find was…
See ya’ Havre de Grace. If we had gotten our hands on some celebratory crabs, it would probably be worth paying $6 to leave.