The Dick Dock

For those of you who are not familiar with Provincetown, there is a special place here that people visit late at night called the Dick Dock. Yes, it's really true. I'm not making this up.


After work, most nights, Kevin and I go for walks around town. When the bars close at 1 am, people head over to Spiritus, the pizza place, to mingle and find their piece before the night ends. Kevin and I usually stroll through the crowd on the streets on our way.

For the less fortunate souls, those that haven't made a match at the bars or at Spiritus, there is the Dick Dock. Just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Spiritus, the Boatslip Resort overlooks Commercial Street. There is an alley just past it that leads to the ocean. In the back of the Boatslip, there is a big deck where they have the daily Tea Dance. Under that deck is the Dick Dock.

Quite often, Kevin and I sit on the porch of the building across Commercial Street from the alley that leads down to the Dick Dock. It makes for an interesting end to the evening. We see townies and visitors making their way down. We know what they're looking for. And, depending on how long we've been sitting there, we know who's down there. Some people come out alone, some come out with a new friend.


Last night was a particularly interesting night at the Dick Dock. As we were sitting in the chairs, we noticed a straight couple walk barefoot, towels wrapped around them, heading down towards the dock. Boy, were they in for a big surprise!

Later, as we were sitting there, two police approached on foot. Then, a patrol car came down Atlantic Street, which ends in a T on Commercial Street at the top of the alley to the Dick Dock, and parked at the end. A second patrol car drove up and parked on Commercial Street at the end. In the end, six police officers congregated there, flashlights in hand, preparing for a raid.


Okay. So it didn't really look like that. It was much darker out.

But anyway, Kevin and I walked back towards the apartment to get a better view of the participants scampering out from the other end of the Dick Dock. It was crazy how many dirty, old men came walking up between building all along Commercial Street at 2:30 in the morning. As if they had been just gazing at the moon over the ocean or something. Funny shit!

The Wonders of IKEA

Kevin and I took a trip to IKEA last week on our way back from Boston.


Whenever I see those golden letters, I just know that we're in for a good time. See, Kevin and I weren't searching for anything in particular at IKEA. We have already furnished both the New York and Provincetown apartments. Our primary reason for going to IKEA is to kill time, and to eat some Sweeeeeedish meeeeeetballs.


We made it about ten minutes in the store before we found our first gem. This showroom jumped right out at us. It looks as though it's designed to be a basement room for kids or teenagers. It sort of reminds me of the basement of the house I grew up in. Only totally different.


Here we see Kevin lounging on a beautiful couch, sending obscene text messages to his mother. Notice the stairway. I am very intrigued by this stairway. I want to ascend this stairway.


DENIED! It is not safe up there. But wait! What is up there that's so dangerous!?!


Oh, that's all. It's nothing. No, literally, it's nothing. IKEA built a staircase that goes nowhere for the showroom.
After this showroom, Kevin's tummy started rumbling. So we decided to skip the rest of the store and head straight for the Swedish meatballs. Yum.

Stop and Shop and Laugh

Kevin and I decided that we wanted a snack tonight. This is a rare event for us, as we rarely eat anything. Ever. It was about ten o'clock, and there wasn't much open in Provincetown, so we went for a drive to Orleans, about thirty minutes away. This information is irrelevant to our story really, but to anyone who knows that the Stop and Shop in Provincetown closes at nine, it answers a few questions.

We get to Stop and Shop and head straight for the bread aisle. We need bread. That is why we went to the bread aisle. We spy an adorable foreigner in the aisle. He makes his way over to us and asks us a few questions in a Russian accent.

BORIS: Excuse me.

ME: Yes?

BORIS: Can you tell me, does this mean that I only get three of these for five dollars, or...

He points to a package of hamburger buns. At the bottom of the package, it reads: 3/$5.00.

ME: It means that you get three packages for five dollars.

I chuckle on the inside at the thought of pulling out three buns from the package and paying five dollars for them.

BORIS: Thanks.

He walks away, gets about ten feet away, then turns back.

BORIS: Also, can you tell me where I can find the grill kitchen?

I think to myself, "What is grill kitchen? Is that a restaurant in the area? Is he looking for a grill to cook his chicken on?"

ME: Um... I'm not sure.

KEVIN: Grilled chicken? I'm not sure where that would be either.

ME: You mean packages of chicken to grill?

BORIS: No. Already cooked kitchen. I mean, chicken.

ME: No, I'm not sure. We don't usually shop here.

BORIS: Okay, well, thank you.

This may or may not be the grill kitchen that Boris eventually found. We stumbled into him again in the section with grill kitchens. We bought some tasty cannoli there.