I may never glamp again, but if I do, I’m heading straight for the Chicken Shack!
Back in July, I traveled up to Maine to take a workshop at John Paul Caponigro’s studio in Cushing. My quest for accommodations was fueled by both thrift and convenience. That’s how I came upon the Chicken Shack listing on airbnb.
Low-end, charming and set in a field of Queen Anne’s lace, I booked it immediately. While the lack of indoor plumbing gave me and my bladder pause, I decided it was worth the gamble.
“Really, do you really need to shower every day?” an internal voice inflected with an undecipherable European accent said to me.
“Not if it’s cool,” I replied.
All toilets aside (or rather inside the main house), I had a memorable stay. I heard the lonely hoot of a screech owl in the dark, and awoke to Maine blue skies, clear yellow summer sun and disturbing thoughts about where I would pee. The evenings were chilly, but my host Jessica supplied plenty of quilts and blankets.
I will admit, I never did figure out how to turn the hot water on in the shower, and my personal musk suffered for it. No one at the workshop complained, but guess is they were too hopped up on chocolate and coffee to care.
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