Getting Away From It All–in Wayne!

By Cynthia Darling

It is hot. Sweltering hot. A day for the beach. But the beach was not in my cards this weekend. Family obligations, chores, and work have left me with a full weekend in Montclair. I go about my business doing my best to avoid the heat by staying in air-conditioned rooms. 

But then I find myself with a few hours of freedom on Sunday afternoon. Suddenly all of the heat in the state seems to have settled on my front porch where I am trying to read. It really does seem like a travesty that I am not at the beach.

It's time for a fruity drink. A fruity alcoholic drink. I have just a few hours. Down the shore is too far. Suddenly, my heat-paralyzed brain shoots me an image: Bahama Breeze Island Grille in Wayne. I've been wanting to try this place since last year when it arrived, seemingly dropped in one piece from the sky into the middle of the Wayne Towne Center parking lot. With Caribbean music pumping out of its speakers, its patio seating and frozen cocktail drinking clientele always beckon to me from across the parking lot.

This will be my destination today. It's the closest I will get to the beach.

After taking a seat on the rather extensive outdoor porch, I settle back and take in the scene. Teal and blue and shades of orange and pink decorate the restaurant.  Though I am right smack in the middle of a parking lot, a well-manicured green lawn and a colorful garden surround the porch. The sounds of Caribbean-style music dance around me. A tall man in the corner plays his xylophone accompanied by some piped-in island music on his speakers.

Shiny parked cars are lined up on the asphalt just beyond my island deck seat. J.C. Penney's, an abandoned Fortunoff's, and a big pile of gravel lie across the parking lot just inside my field of vision. If I look too long at this scene, I break the spell that everyone and everything around me - a brightly clad, friendly waiter included - is working hard to cast. 

I look to the menu. When the waiter comes, I order a Mojito Cubano. I also order Warm Spinach Dip with Island Chips. Just the kind of thing I would order were I, say, on vacation. Were I, say, not worried about calories. 

Like I said, just a few hours. I'll be back to reality soon enough.

At the next table, a man sips his frozen peach-colored drink and then passes it to the woman across from him so that she may partake. Overhead, giant ceiling fans whir, creating a breeze out of the otherwise stifling air. Everyone around me seems to be laughing or smiling.

Ahhhhh. 

I have received what I came for. Transport. A change of sceney. Getting outside of my Montclair world. It ain't the shore. But with the music, the drinks, the brightly colored walls, the island fronds (ok, large green plant) lightly gracing my shoulders, I feel transported, if not to the Caribbean, then at least to Disneyworld. For a few hot hours in the 'burbs of Northern New Jersey, a girl could do a lot worse!