Cindy Adams Didn’t Get Vacationland

By Lori Perkins


New York Post columnist Cindy Adams went to Maine for the first time in her life this past August and wrote a disparaging article about her trip basically making fun of the people and the rural life like some journalistic dinosaur from the 80s who hasn’t learned that punching down is just not funny (see this line – “Locals whose behinds overlap the state of Texas all stuffed into shorts. Realtors could establish an entire campsite on the average ass.”) Here’s her piece, if you want to read the whole thing, https://nypost.com/2022/08/21/my-summer-vacation-in-polite-friendly-inexpensive-maine/amp/?utm_source=reddit.com


I’ve been going to Maine since I was a kid, because I have family from there (I’m actually the “keeper of the graves” now, but that’s another essay). When I was a kid and a teen, hanging out with the New York Dolls and Joan Jett, I thought Maine was boring, but by the time I reached 25, I realized that Maine was a respite from the crazy world that I had chosen to live in. I have always felt that my annual trip to Maine, where I’m tired by 9:00 p.m., stuffed to my ears with fresh lobster and scallops and mussels for a fraction of the price of NYC, was where I went to ground myself. I recharged my batteries for another year of grueling competition in NYC. The last thing I ever wanted to do when I was in Maine was wear uncomfortable clothing and heels while I waited in line for reservations to be “seen.” Maine is where I can wear shorts and sneakers and a hoodie and no one cares, and I’m never going to run into someone I know who would.


I was actually offended by Cindy Adams’ column, and then I felt sorry for her. I can’t imagine getting to whatever ripe old age she’s at and not being able to appreciate the splendor of whale watching from Bar Harbor or the serenity of picking shells on the beach of the Penobscot Bay or the grandeur of Arcadia National Park (as well as the popovers with strawberry jam served at Jordan’s Pond where you DO have to make a reservation and sometimes wait to be seated for 2 hours, just like in NYC). I almost wish I could show her my Maine, but then I don’t have a BMW and I have a feeling she might make fun of me in my red VW Beetle.