Over the past several months, I’ve been slowly conquering a few medical issues and am just about ready to declare victory. On Monday, I had to go to the mainland for some of those geezerhood tests everyone says you have to do but nobody says you have to like. So after getting up at 0’dark:thirty to catch the first boat and spending the day at the hospital, I was filled with the virtuous knowledge of successful adulting. I was also desperate to escape before they thought of some even more embarrassing place that needed checking.
I asked the cheerful nurse watching me NOT impress her treadmill’s readouts, “So [pant, pant]…What do people here do when they have a few hours to kill before their ferry?” [more panting]
She didn’t hesitate. “Troon.”
Was it the gorgeous beach that ran along Troon’s waterfront length?
The dramatic statue honoring Troon’s war dead?
Or maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with Troon’s Blueberry Bakery and its white chocolate flower pot filled with raspberry cheesecake?
Whatever it was, I was thrilled to hear, “That’s you done.” The cheerful waitress was right. I’m all better now.