Life’s A Beach
Another typical Friday night in Huntington Village where things have been hopping all night. Bar hopping that is, one of our favorite sports back in 73. From Canterbury Ales to Chelsea Square Pub to Sportmans pub in the bowling alley. I think we hit just about every bar, even the “old man” bars and it was no longer Friday night, but early Saturday morning. What better way to finish all the revelry than by walking into straight into the Lions Cage. The one on New York Avenue that is where they make the best Harvey Wallbangers in town and may offer our last shot at “scoring“. Truth is I knew I wouldn’t be picking up anything but my tab and I was feeling pretty buzzed. Missed opportunities aside we were on a roll anyway when we heard that all too familiar phrase which effectively stalled our rambling conversations. “Last call for alcohol!”
“Damn, last call already?” It was the same thing Shadow said every time we heard that “time to get your ass home” two minute warning but tonight, I mean this morning, Shadow was seriously not ready to call it quits. “Guys, lets grab a bite at Colonial Diner then pick up a few brewski’s and head out to The Hampton’s.” The five of us looked at each other and knew in an instant what a bad idea that was. “I’m game.” “Me too, I’ll go”. Okay, maybe not all of us because so far Shadow, Mario, and T-Bone were ready to go for it and it was up to me and Willie to avoid the poor decision. “Far out let’s go. You in JT?” My lone voice of reason was all that was standing between five idiots driving out to The Hampton’s and making the rational decision to go home and avoid what would more than likely be a huge mistake. “Hell yea I’m in man, lets go for it.” Holy shit was that me that said that?
To late the bad judgment call was made so we ate, stopped off at 7/11 to fill up our cooler, swung by our homes to sneak out our bathing trunks and a towel, and headed for a weekend in The Hampton’s. Mario was behind the wheel of my car because he was a good driver an the least impaired. Actually that’s why we called him Mario, after Mario Andretti the racing car driver. Mario hung those curves like a damn surgeon even when he was, lets just call it impaired. Once we breezed past the Walt Whitman Mall I knew there was no turning back. Of course knowing better now we would have never even considered such a ride but back in those days bad decisions were all the rage.
We had a half baked plan to head out towards The Hampton Bays and find a discrete place to park so we could sneak off into the dunes to have a quick nightcap and grab a snooze. In the morning we would scour the beach for a party because The Hamptons was one big ass party on the beach. Each of us had a favorite place to go at night and sometime to night we would be on our mission to hit them all. Mario was a big fan of The Cave, probably for the ladies dancing in the cages. Willie loved the Barge which wa boring and made no sense to me but to each his own and of course Shadow was all about alcohol so we had to go to OBI East for the “Long Island Iced Tea’s.” T-Bone met this killer hot chick at The Mad Hatter last summer so he wants to go there hoping he’ll find her again. Me? My favorite place was Cat Ballou with the deck out back but to be honest The Mad Hatter was a close second. It was wall to wall bikinis in that place. We would try and hit them all in the hopes of seeing The Good Rats or Otter Creek. Both bands play the Hampton’s a lot so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. Truth told the real reason any of us go there is for love and maybe a little sex. Okay mostly in the hope of sex but we were strapping young boys.
We cruised own the highway with Jim Cameron of WLIR radio promising some Santana and Canned Heat coming up next. “Hey man, crank it up when Canned heat comes on bro” I sat shotgun because it was my friggen car, and I would be more than happy to honor Willies request. “You got it Willie boy” Then I added a chorus of “Little Willie Willie wont,….go home” just cuz it pissed him off. I looke over at Mario who seemed almost sober as he got us to Sunrise Highway staring intensely ahead. The great thing about the overnight trip is so little traffic.Of course going home would be different, 495 would be on the Sunday evening Hampton evacuation crawl as so many tired and sun burnt people left weekend paradise to return back to their nine to five worlds in shades of mediocrity. Be we were almost there as the signs for East Quahog and The Hampton Bays faded behind us. Time to go local and find a place to stash the car.
It took about another twenty minutes but we finally found and old gas station, a run down Esso where Mario parked the car in the back among a bunch of other cars most of which were in even worse shape than my half dilapidated Simca. Willie was our resident analytic so he would have the street names committed to memory as we headed out with cooler in tow. We quietly negotiated the residential roads to find our sandy sanctuary while the beautiful early morning sound of waves tickling the shoreline set a placid tone. Once secure in the dunes we each had one beer then slipped off to sleep all snug in our sandy beds while visions of bikini clad ladies danced in our heads.
It was a beautiful Long Island summer morning and the sun had shaken off the last of the evenings darkness. I woke up hearing the commotion of people migrating towards the shore in search of their perfect spot to set up their blankets and chairs. But something else brought me rapidly alert. Something, or more accurately a bunch of something’s were biting my legs, arms and face. Horseflies! Holy shit there must have been a thousand of those bloodsucking flesh ripping winged pests nipping at my body with their murderous mandibles. I began a very spastic interpretive dance designed to quickly rid me of the parasitic miniature beasts. The boys also woke up to the annoying flies the size of bats. Okay, baby bats, but the suckers were big. And mean! I had brought a towel which had now become a weapon, Willie had tears in his eyes as he cried “Ow ow, ow.” I looked at Shadow’s interpretive dance just realizing how graceful he could be but when I saw T-Bone I nearly fainted. His bathing suit was a bit tight and was showing way too much for my virginal eyes. I pointed to his crotch and said, “T-Bone, either put that thing away or cover it up” T-Bone stared at me through groggy all night drinking confused eyes. Once he saw my finger he followed the trajectory to the image I was attempting to wash away and let out a blood curdling scream. He reached his down into his shorts and yanked out a live squirming snake which he sent airborne.
Instinctively the four of us grabbed our crotches and immediately began inspecting our trunks for any unwanted creepy crawlers. The wonderful sound of the Atlantic ocean waves crashing on the shore became overshadowed by loud giggles and some out and out laughter. I looked over still confused to the beach which was filled with those bikini clad images all pointing and laughing at five boys peppered with horsefly bites and each openly ravaging his own crotch. The blood shot up to my face accentuating the fly bites and coloring so deep red my embarrassment couldn’t possibly be mistaken for sunburn.
We enjoyed our day at the beach, some Frisbee and swimming, but it was hard to get past all the pointing and smiling as the story of the five clowns from Huntington circulated no doubt getting embellished at each retelling. Each of us had lost our dignity but we were in The Hamptons so who really cares. We did go out to some of the clubs, No Good Rats or Otter Creek, none of us scored but we all five had a great time anyway. At one point I was involved in a nice conversation with a gorgeous redhaired foxy babe and it was going pretty well until a friend of hers whispered in her ear and she politely told me she had to leave.
Oh well there always next time and next time we’ll be a lot wiser. Not smarter, more Budweiser because we are perfectionists o we keep repeating our mistakes until we get them perfect. None of us drink and drive now and if the weekend taught us anything its to be careful where you sleep and how you wake up because humiliation seldom results in sex. That there is much truth to the proverb you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression. Next time We’ll be prepared.