A couple of years ago, my husband and I decided to take a February weekend getaway in Provincetown. We booked an inn — the Brasswood, lovely — and made the drive. We happily spent the weekend as temporary locals, imagining how it would feel to live in P’town all the time. We walked to the museum and restaurants and soaked in Provincetown in the off-season.
Early one morning, I stopped in at Kohi Coffee for my first cup, and the barista immediately clocked that I was not, in fact, a townie. “Visiting for the weekend?” he asked. I admitted that I was. “Yes, we’re here from Eastham.”
He looked up, took a beat, and asked, “Did ya walk?” —Susan Abbott, Eastham
Readers are invited to send their own mini-stories (word limit: 200) about funny, illuminating, only-on-the-Outer-Cape moments to [email protected] for consideration for “Incidentally.” We hope this will become a place for recording memorable snippets overheard at the post office, grocery store, beach, or wherever our stories take place.
