It’s practically winter

It’s August. Time to go into late summer panic mode, my friends. All those things you’ve put off since June, you now must try to cram into one frantic, potentially fatal weekend. Force your kids to have fun, Griswold style, even if it makes them cry. My suggestions below.

6 a.m.

Old Orchard Beach. To save time, you’ll have to eat your cone of scalding hot pier fries in one giant swallow, washing it down by guzzling half a bottle of vinegar. Just write the game hawkers a four-figure check to cover all those prizes you’d never win even if you stood there all day trying to throw those stupid rings onto blocks of wood. Flying Bobs at 7:15 a.m., vomiting at 7:20.

7:45 a.m.

Zip line. I’m still not really sure what a zip line is, but go for it. To save time, refuse the safety harnesses and try to jog across all those ropes and cables instead of walking, like a wuss. If your spleeny kids balk at this, tell them this is how the cowboys did it on the zip lines in the old west. Hell, that may even be true.

8:30 a.m.

Tanning booth. It sounds crazy, but hear me out. Instead of taking all that time getting to the beach, hurl your kids into a coffin-like tanning bed and then sit next to it, repeatedly warning them to put on a shirt so they won’t burn. You might also caution them that swimming immediately after eating will attract sharks. It won’t make any sense, but say it anyway. It’s your vacation, dammit.

9 a.m.

Crud De Nez Motel. You want to get the motel experience without actually spending an entire night there, right? No problem. Rent it for an hour and just ignore the clerk’s raised eyebrows. Let the kids annoy the hell out of other guests at the pool, listen to your wife complain that “the carpet smells kind of funny. Maybe we should ask for another room,” clog the toilet and get into a fight with the ice machine. One hour, you’re in, you’re out, just like that time when you . . . But let’s move on.

10:05 a.m.

On the road. Glare into the rearview mirror and warn the kids that if they don’t stop fighting, you’re going to turn this car around and they won’t have a vacation this year. Repeat every three minutes, even if your kids are only weeping softly and begging to be let off at a rest area.

11 a.m.

Pemaquid lighthouse. Squeeze into a parking spot that’s actually six inches narrower than your car. Open the hatch and unload everything: lawn chairs, suitcases, boogie boards, cooler, tire jack, etc. Lug it all down to the seaside and wait for someone to point out that, while Pemaquid is very pretty, there’s not a hell of a lot to do there. Snap a photo of your kids eating the lighthouse in the background and call it good.

Noon

Sea Basket on Route 1. Actually, this isn’t a vital part of your vacation experience, but could you pick me up a chicken basket? Don’t roll your eyes at me, mister. Just because it’s a seafood joint, doesn’t mean I have to order fish.

I’m out of space

More vacation tips next week. Maybe.

Seriously

In Kennebunkport, a police officer named Marc LaFlamme was hurt in a motorcycle crash recently. This confused some people locally and I appreciate the concern. I also hope the other LaFlamme recovers quickly.

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