A Reset.

Whelp… here I am again. I’m back on the island. It’s just like in Lost. You try so hard to get off the island, but eventually, you resign yourself to having to come back. I realize that that sounds a little negative, and I don’t really mean for it to be so. The truth about the island is that it seems to be a bit of a resetting place for me.

Ten years ago, I was miserable at my AM prep job in Cambridge. It was my second cooking job. The chef was mildly condescending and kind of passive aggressive. He would give criticism with a smile on his face saying “I’m a nice guy!” but with a look in his eyes saying, “You’re a fucking moron!” I was also working PM shifts at two other restaurants part time. I think my longest stretch of working was 28 days without a single day off and an average of four doubles a week. It was rough.

One night I was out at a bar with some of my coworkers, when I ended up talking to one of my coworker’s friends who said that he had a friend on Nantucket that was looking for cooks for the summer season. He made a phone call, and I interviewed. A month later, I was down on the island for the first time.

I thought that it would be the most awesome amazing summer job. I didn’t realize just how hard the work and how long the hours would be. I didn’t realize how isolated I would feel, and how incredibly small and incredibly large an island that was 14 miles by 5 miles could be.

I am a city kid. I’m used to the hum of traffic, things being open late, well paved sidewalks, a choice of cineplexes, and a variety of ethnic dining choices. The island had very little of that. It had even less ten years ago as well. It had rich people and critter pants. It felt like almost everyone who didn’t work on the island either sailed or golfed, or both. There were no graffiti murals or street food. Not even a dirty water hot dog cart. There were a few shacks here and there, but they just blended into the architecture style of grayed wood shingles and white trim.

That first summer, I worked my ass off and saved a good amount of money. I saved enough for my first two and a half month trip to southeast Asia, a trip that changed my life. It was a beautiful thing, being able to work and put so much money away. It was so beautiful that I came back the following summer. At the end of that second season, I had no intention of coming back for a third summer.

At the end of the second season, I got a job helping to open a restaurant in Cambridge. It was a great restaurant. The problem was that the staff was small and the sous chef and I did not get along and we did not like each other. He was boys with the chef, so a few months into the start of the restaurant, I called up my chef on Nantucket. It was an easy out. It was a good way to reset.

So I came back to the island for my third summer. Every summer was the same for me. I did a lot of hiding out in staff housing. My days off consisted of going to get coffee in the late morning, getting on my bicycle, riding to the farm to get lunch, riding to the beach, and sitting there until the air got cool. I would ride home around twilight, stopping at the ice skating rink, where there was a Thai takeout spot, and end the night watching movies on my laptop. I didn’t go out a lot. It was a very lonely time for me, but then again, most of my life is pretty lonely.

After that third summer, I took another two and a half month trip, this time to China, and returned just in time to go to my grandmother’s hundredth birthday party in Vancouver. I thought that third summer would be my last. From there, I carried on with my career. I continued to grow and travel.

A year and change ago, when the restaurant that I had given a lot of myself to closed its doors, I struggled with what to do. There wasn’t anywhere in Boston that I wanted to work at. I was in a deep, blue funk and I knew it. It was real deep. Sometimes I wonder if I’m still in it. I keep trying to claw my way out, but I find myself directionless.

So I called up my chef from the island. He didn’t ask to be, but I consider him my mentor. I learned a lot in his kitchen, both in technique and in structure. I am grateful that we are still friends after over ten years. I feel like he has always gone to bat for me, and, in turn, I am always inclined to go to bat for him. At the time, he was looking for another cook to round out his crew, so I went down to help out.

Last summer was a different summer on the island, though. I wasn’t going in there to prove anything to anyone. I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I wasn’t trying to flex. I was kind of just trying to still my mind a lot. Instead of staying in staff housing, I rented a room in a young woman’s house, but like every other summer, I kept to myself. Coffee, farm, beach, Thai food, movies on my laptop. The work didn’t feel as hard or as stressful as it had in past summers. I went in, banged it out, and went home.

It was during the summer that I cooked up my plan to try to move to Thailand, a place that I fell in love with over ten years ago, and had returned to a few times over the past five years. I would go to the island, save as much money as I could, go to San Francisco, work there and save as much money as I could, and then make my run.

I saved up enough money to last me roughly four months, as I calculated.

While I was in Thailand, before I could even work a single shift in Bangkok, COVID hit, and I watched it all slip through my fingers. The money, the stages, the opportunities… they all slipped away in a cloud of moisture droplet spreading cough.

There was always a possibility of my plan not working out. I knew that.

The chef that originally hooked me up with my mentor on the island, years later, described me as a dreamer… in a derogatory way. He wasn’t wrong. I am a dreamer. I like the idea of possibilities and I do my best to push towards those dreams. The past ten years have been a log hard road, where I have seen so many dreams get crushed, and so many walls built so I can’t find my way through the mazes that stand between me and those dreams. Sometimes it’s hard to keep trying to chip away at walls or navigate my way through to dreams eventually forgotten.

Having returned from Thailand, with another dream squashed, I have made my way back down to the island to reset. I’m grateful to my mentor for allowing me to return. I’m grateful to the crew there for welcoming me back. There have been plenty of times where i have been a piece of shit, and plenty of crews that I don’t think would want me back, or that I would never want to go back to, but I really am grateful that the crew liked me enough to have me back.

It’s going to be an interesting summer with all of the COVID curveballs being thrown at the restaurant industry. The kitchen staff this summer is significantly smaller. We’re down one full line cook and three interns. That’s a lot of manpower. I suspect that it means a lot more heavy lifting than last year. I haven’t even had my first shift back yet, though. I’m waiting to get a COVID test from the local hospital. I’ll actually try to go get one tomorrow, if they let me.

This summer, I’m also back in staff housing. It’s so far from the restaurant, an hour walk. Rough. I tried to get my moped down here, but I couldn’t get anyone to help get it down to the ferry. I couldn’t get my bicycle down here either. I’m a little scared of how I’m going to get to and from work.

I did a lot of calculations over the past 24 hours. There is a bus, but the timing of it is unreliable. To be honest, I don’t think I’ll even be able to catch the bus back at the end of the night every night. It’s $75 for a monthly pass which is kind of insane. Ubers seem to be around $17 each way, at least. So, I think it might be in my best interest to buy myself a bike or an ebike and sell it at the end of the season. I think that it would pay for itself, but it’s a lot upfront.

Regardless, it’s going to be an interesting summer. I’m hoping to cook up my next plan. Who know what that will be? All I know is that after not working and not getting paid since January, I’m ready to go and bang some pans…. or fryer baskets, because that’s the station I’ll be on. Again, I’m looking to keep my head down and on my shoulders. I definitely foresee coffee, farm, beach, Thai food, and movies happening again…. with a smattering of $1 oysters.