It's better in the Hamptons

East Hampton called our names last weekend, and we answered.

Actually, AV’s friend AH from Texas barely had time to get in the door in the three-bedroom house she is living in for the summer before we officially invited ourselves out for a three-day weekend excursion.

‘Memorial Day in Montauk’ has a nice ring to it, no?

Tipped off from a Hamptons-savvy coworker, we got off of work early on Friday for the long weekend and high-tailed it to the Hunters-Point stop in Queens to get seats on the Long Island Railroad (LIRR). The LIRR, as we found out, was complete with leather seats and bartenders in every other car.

The three of us sat in a set of four seats facing each other and were joined by a seven-year-old girl named Victoria whose father sat her next to us and promptly disappeared behind his copy of the Wall Street Journal. I could see why.

Said child proceeded to chat our tired little ears off for the entire hour and a half between the Jamaica and West Hampton stops. We heard all about the first grade, her many sisters, summers spent in the Hamptons and winters in West Palm Beach. I told her we were born in 1985 and she spent about 90 seconds figuring out how old that made us, which was the most quiet and peaceful minute and a half of the entire ride. Her guess was 33 and I was pretty much ready to get to her station by then.

We got to the East Hampton station and since we were waiting for AH to finish working, we found a little Italian deli and grabbed dinner. It was then when I realized that while I had gotten off the train in East Hampton, my wallet was in fact still on the train to Montauk. Obviously freaking out, I found a few MTA police officers who were helpful and eventually located my wallet… still on the train to Montauk. We ended up waiting at the station and getting picked-up by AH and taking a night-tour of the Hamptons while we went in search of my wallet, which was in West Hampton with Victoria and her summer home.

We went out that night and it basically felt like spring break for young professionals dressed in their madras best. We also witnessed a Range Rover pulling out of a parallel parking spot, running into a Taurus, which hit another Range Rover, which ran into a Porsche. Expensive weekend.

Saturday we woke up and wandered around on foot while AH was working, and made it about halfway to the beach before we were deterred by the clouds, cold late-May winds and sprinkling rain. Sugar melts in the rain.

We went to a late dinner and enjoyed the rare pleasure of a leisurely meal with friends. Good wine, good steak, good company. What more can a girl ask for?

We rented bicycles on Sunday (because, why wouldn't we?) and had a sunny day to ride around and see more of East Hampton. We ate breakfast from a local bakery on a bench outside the store, then got our bathing suits and headed for the beach. The weather could not have been more perfect, and we took advantage by abandoning our knowledge of responsible skin protection and baking in the sun for a few hours.

No, we were not hideously sunburned, and yes some 15-year-old girl at the snack bar had the audacity to charge KR and I each a dollar for a cup of ice. When we told her that was ridiculous, she simply poured them out. I wanted to tell her that for a dollar I could by an entire bag of ice from a convenience store and hit her over the head with it.

I didn’t, but I definitely entertained the idea. The same snack bar was also selling biscotti, alongside nachos and hot dogs. I didn’t know people ate biscotti at the beach. I also didn’t know people deemed it appropriate to wear so much madras at one time, but apparently it’s possible.

Sunday night we went to a hotel restaurant/bar right by the water to meet up with some of AH’s coworkers. We walked out on to the back deck that opened up to a harbor full of yachts, packed with clusters of white tables with blue and white chairs. AH’s coworkers were dressed in their preppy-best, and we were in business for the night.

That’s how they do it in East Hampton.

"What do I want to take home from my summer vacation? Time. The wonderful luxury of being at rest. The days when you shut down the mental machinery that keeps life on track and let life simply wander. The days when you stop planning, analyzing, thinking and just are. Summer is my period of grace."
-Ellen Goodman