Sunday, April 15, 2018

Out East

I'm going to the Hamptons is the sort of uncouth thing someone who doesn't have their name on a wing at the Met and a board seat at the Robin Hood Foundation might utter. You know, in an unguarded moment while quaffing a Bud Light jammed on the standing room only LIRR to Montauk on a sweltering Friday night in August.  For those who have really arrived, a nonchalant "heading out east" will suffice. Then the only question left to ask is whether you're taking Dad's helicopter or his driver. Or Zipcar. Sorry kid, guess we're going to the Hamptons.

Montauk sufer-chic. As in faux-vintage surf boards that have never actually touched a wave but look great on the Instagram.

If you want leaves outside your window the nightly rate quadruples.

Daddy, you mean some people have Central Parks attached to their houses! That's crazy!

Rumor has it there are dry aged steaks in the trunk. And also the Easter Bunny's secret stash. No peeking.

Incoming babies! As the ranking little person it's Ryan's job to set an example for the young 'uns. You can start by showing them that trick where you eat a whole chocolate egg in a single bite.

You mean you can light a fire here without the Coop board repossessing your shares? That must be that thing our founding fathers called Freedom.

How many points for NERD when the D is on a triple word score?

Simon "Go Big or Go Home" Ang gets ready to demonstrate why man discovered fire.

Or he will, if Rock can rediscover how to light a stack of charcoal with a match.

Don't worry son, once you taste it you'll forget about that cute spotted cow on Old MacDonald's farm.

See, what did I tell you?

Release the Beast!

Dad, this is a swimming pool isn't it? A tub is one of those things we have at home where I can touch both sides at once.

Did the Easter Bunny come? Did he? Did he?

Kids these days have no idea how good they have it. You do realize the Easter Bunny hasn't always delivered giant monster trucks with his eggs?

And certainly not Paw Patrols!

Here's the plan kid, you look under the bushes and then hand them to Daddy. And then go look under another bush while he eats it.

Dad, there's no monster truck with this one. Lame.

This one was laid by the Greater Blue Lindt Bird, native to 5th Avenue.

Good haul buddy. Let's put it up here so Daddy can watch over it very closely for you.

Korean japchae for breakfast, with a side of fire engine.

It is Passover after all. Get used to it if you want to go for that Goldman CEO seat.

Those rubber bands are to keep them from pinching the patrons' Hermes. This is East Hampton after all.

Good news, no pretentious East Hampton Village parking passes required in the off season. Even mere commoners are allowed on the hallowed sand.

Dad, I don't get it, this sand is no better than Bondi, how come each grain costs a couple bucks?

The hippest pop-ups are gearing up for a big season selling, uhm, pink chickens to bored Upper East Side housewives stuck out east with the kids all summer.

Nooooo! Even the legendary Bostwick's Chowder House is out of season.

Keep practicing son, pool hand will be the only way you're going to get out here in peak season.

Big prawn for the little man. This is the one part of the world that makes Whole Foods look like a Dollar General.

Nothing says out east like a Jack's stir brew from Amagansett.

Don't kid yourself son, even if you cover up the Zipcar logo with your diaper bag you need at least an S-class to get past the gate at the East Hampton Golf Club.

What's a porch Dad? Is that like a place you wait for the elevator or something?

Who thought flipping burgers could be so glamorous?