Goodbye undergrad, hello Monhegan

It's a mighty few who can say that they graduated from college in a car pulled to the side of the road before embarking on a four-month, no-break, work stay on an island––but I'm proud to say I have now joined that niche crew! On Friday morning, I put on my cap and gown to watch my live-stream graduation ceremony and revel in the five seconds of on-camera fame that would normally be a graceful walk across the stage with a diploma. Let's just say Zoom doesn't exactly have that same commencement magic.

Anyway, the whole virtual ceremony took much longer than anticipated (follow the program schedule people!) and before long, it was high time for my parents and I to hit the road. I had a ferry to catch that afternoon and we all know how Richard Ruhlin likes to drive on Memorial Day weekend: fast, aggressive, and most importantly, ahead of schedule.

So instead of graduating in my kitchen (how sad does that sound?), I decided moving my tassel from the left side of my grad cap to the right could take place from practically any location... including the car. Why not?! Off we went, phones in hand and all sense of convention in the rearview. When it came time for my name to finally be called, we pulled over next to Tinker's Auto Shop, the mechanic who fixed up my very first car. I like to think there's something beautifully ironic about that versus how depressing it is in actuality. In true Simmons fashion, there was nothing special that came with recognition of my past four years as a journalism student. In fact, neither my major nor academic standing were even announced. Just a "Group 7 you may now turn your cameras on [insert seven or eight names]... Helen Ruhlin... congratulations group 7!"

It's amazing what $20,000 a year will get you.

Once that brief rite of passage had quite literally passed in a moment's time, we started up the car again and went on our way, this time with a new focus in mind: traveling to Monhegan Island.

About a month or two ago I scored a gig working as a housekeeper for a little inn called The Monhegan House. I know how glamorous it sounds, but free housing, three meals a day, and a break from the uppity internships I'd been taking for the past few summers was enticing. Not to mention the gorgeous atmosphere I've heard all about growing up that is Monhegan.

There are three ways to get to the island, all of which involve a small boat (apologies to the seasick readers out there, but I promise it's not that bad). First there's Port Clyde which is located in St. George-–it's about a 60-minute ferry ride from there. Then there's Boothbay Harbor which is the longest ride on the water clocking in at an hour and a half long. And finally, there's a 50-minute sail from New Harbor, the port I chose, or I suppose being the only available boat left... really it chose me. You see I'm quite lazy when it comes to logistics and I opted to wait until the last minute to buy a ticket on one of the busiest travel days of the year. Self-deprecations aside, I made it on time to the dock.

The ferry itself works like a well-oiled machine. I retrieved my ticket from the window, which unbeknownst to me was discounted since I'm now an ~island employee~ and tagged my luggage with its intended destination at the inn. From there, two men who looked like they knew what they were doing hoisted everyone's bags onto the boat and we began to pile aboard.

With a final hug goodbye to my parents, I was out to sea.

Despite my worries of wave-induced wooziness, I decided to sit up on the top deck of the ferry. A sort of intestinal challenge if you will. Surprisingly, it wasn't the motion in the ocean that made me uneasy, but the day-tripper tourists seated in front of, next to, and behind me! I don't know if it was the overpriced, cheap beer they insisted on downing for the brief boat ride, the endless middle-age-girls'-trip selfies, or the sunburnt dads who refused to put on their masks despite the public transportation mandate––but something about the average Monhegan Island tourist rubbed me wrong from the start.

Land ahoy! After just under an hour, we pulled into the island and folks began to file out of the boat. The courtesy of "women and children first" seems to have gone out the window for Mainers though, I'm pretty sure I was cut off by three binocular-clad old men on my way towards the exit ladder.

As everyone left the ferry and climbed ashore, we were met by a group of four luggage trucks (that's right TRUCKS THAT CARRY YOUR TRAVEL STUFF FOR YOU - genius) transporting guests' belongings to their rooms at the Trailing Yew, Island Inn, Shining Sails Bed & Breakfast, and of course my new home and place of employment, The Monhegan House. Mark, the smiley truck-driver for The Monhegan House was the first person I met and happily drove my three bags and I up the road to the inn. This is Mark's third summer working on Monhegan, but he's devoted his life to travel and backpacking.

Susan, co-owner of The Monhegan House and current boss of mine, met me at the entrance doors of the inn. She's a tiny woman with the strength of a body builder and an intense leadership attitude to match. Susan hurriedly gave me a "tour" of the ground floor: we passed a lobby, a bathroom, a dining room, a kitchen, a staff dining room, and finally my new housing in the span of about 90 seconds. I didn't retain a word. Praying that she hadn't mentioned anything important amidst that blur of an introduction, I simply shook my head and smiled when asked if I had any questions. The busyness of my new boss was warranted as I would later come to find out that there had been 21 room turnovers that day of our 27 rooms in total. I'll explain the term turnover and a slew of others in a later blog when I get into housekeeping details/lingo, but essentially it means 21 parties left and their rooms all needed to be stripped, cleaned, and reset before new guests arrived. Quite an undertaking for a mere one-and-a-half housekeepers (one works half in the pizza shop and half in the inn).

Susan left me to unload my things at my new homestead. I've been graciously allotted my own room in the employee quarters above The Novelty, our takeaway pizza, ice cream, wine and beer store that has yet to open. The second floor consists of myself, five other employees, and a few showers, toilets and sinks for communal use. My 7ft by 6ft room itself is nothing luxurious, a bed, a bureau, a side table, and a lamp. But the linens were clean and warm and the privacy of the space is much appreciated seeing as I was originally meant to be placed in a double room with someone else.

After unpacking what is most certainly not enough clothes or toiletries for a four-month stay, I headed to staff dinner at 5 PM (which is apparently the one direction I remembered from Susan, any information involving food is typically highlighted by my brain). Dinner and breakfast (and technically lunch though it's a bit more reheat-leftovers-yourself style) are both cooked by our in-house chefs which is pretty incredible considering how expensive food can be on an island. Supper on the first night included a delicious rice and duck dish served alongside salad, fruit, fresh bread, and homemade strawberry-rhubarb jello.

I briefly met my first handful of lovely and welcoming coworkers over dinner, but exhausted by a day of too many monumental life moments and too little sleep, I turned in for the night after eating. Nervously, I set my alarm for 6:50 AM in preparation for my very first day of work in the morning. Talk about a post-grad break eh?