A great time was had in the wilds of New Hampshire.

I headed north to spend time with two guys I've chatted with for a while courtesy of the internet. Traveling long distances to meet in person someone you've only communicated with via Instant Messenger is always a dicey proposition. This trip worked out really well. Mohawk and (Mr. Hartford) Eagle live on a pond in the woods. They're artists, and they wear leather all the time. Both are also very hot men. And, they had no problem with me bringing my dog along so I could give him some time out of the city.

I managed not to get lost too badly on the way up there. Oddly, all roads seem to lead to Ringe, New Hampshire. I put in a call and waited at a local gas station, as finding the multiple unpaved roads to take me back to their property would be more than a challenge. Down the road came Mohawk on his motorcycle, smoking a cigar. Quite the vision. After throwing some whips in the yard (soooo good to have an opportunity to practice with my six foot bullwhip), we had dinner in nearby Keene on the first night, then headed back to the cabin on the pond. There, we talked and talked and talked. Then we went to bed. Bed was the widest (although not the longest) bed I've ever seen. All three of us fit in there comfortably. It was sort of like summer camp, the three of us under the blankets in the cold, talking while candlelights flickered.

(Cut to waves crashing against rocks with violin strains in the background.)

This morning, Mohawk made a great breakfast, I took a shower, and got on the road to head back home to Jersey City.

Y'know, being somewhere rural made me itchier than ever to move to Bucks County. I just feel so good surrounded by trees and water, driving down back roads, swatting mosquitoes, scoping guys in pickup trucks... It all comes so natural to me. I-95 to the Triboro Bridge to the FDR to the Holland Tunnel to Jersey City was like being lead to slaughter.

Green acres is indeed the place to be.

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