What I wanted to say at dinner with Eric Trump

A harrowing restaurant nightmare and a love story

I am currently in a very, very small coastal New England town that is known for having absolutely nothing happen in it whatsoever. I have been coming here every summer since I was a small child and enjoy the fact that there are no traffic lights, nothing about it is fancy, and the fishermen who live here year round gossip like Real Housewives.

I have worked here as a breakfast waitress serving rounds of Bloody Marys to tourists at 9AM, a barista at the vegan coffee shop that played “Blonde on Blonde” on repeat for a summer because the CD was stuck in the machine, and a children’s swimming instructor in a salt pond full of jellyfish.

I wrote my book here, and I am trying to write my next one here currently, and it is wonderful and peaceful and everything was great until Eric Fucking Trump showed up on his yacht.