I went to Cape Cod a few weeks ago for a bit of R&R; though it seems like years ago now.
The weather couldn’t have been better with sunshine every day.
Everything pretty much went as planned.
But what I didn’t plan on was the disappointing discovery of closed restaurants and nightclubs—all the places I used to regularly haunt many years ago.
Route 28, the main road that horizontally bi-sects the Cape, appeared lackluster and sadly dormant in many spots reminding me more of the movie “28 Days Later” than the busy road I remember.

Just what the hell was happening here?

This was just too weird.

My sentimentality bubbled over when I saw a closed/for sale sign out in front of the Mill Hill Club.
This was a nightclub I used to play at in the early eighties; a span of time that found the Cape alive and teeming with people every single night of the week.

I was saddened in a way that I couldn’t explain to my daughters.
My wife knew but the girls quickly got sick of my reminiscing and lamenting
and began to look at me with an implied “there he goes again” neon sign flashing across their foreheads.

Some people say that everything is cyclical, and that in time, things change becoming what they once were.

The Compass Lounge, one of the most popular nightclubs is now a CVS.

Thompson’s Clam Bar, a great restaurant on a harbor in Harwich, has been turned into condominiums.

The Barefoot Trader, the quintessential Cape Cod gift shop that boasted Easter Island-type statues set along the walkway that led inside the shop, now sells Persian Rugs.

WTF?

Does anything stay in business anymore?

Jeepers, this was like the Twilight Zone.

I kept waiting to look in my rear view mirror to see Rod Serling or the Verizon “can you hear me now” guy, sans glasses.
They both look about the same anyway.
It was really sad. From the price of gas to the taste of lobster, everything had changed. But maybe the biggest change of all…was me.