Ah yes, that lovely time of year we call Memorial Day is once again upon us. Here are some lovely tips to our day trippers, weekenders, three or four monthers, etc, as this time of year can surely become rather dangerous to anyone and everyone.
Summer, when a Sunday drive before church becomes an adrenaline-fueled game of chicken with 3-50 bicyclists, riding side by side down our scenic “country” roads. Wearing unflatteringly tight spandex of a plethora of clashing fluorescent epilepsy-inducing colors, they have a tendency to dive in and out of oncoming traffic like crazed deer at the sight of headlights. That double yellow line running down the middle of the road is not intended as a bicycle lane, my friend, and those loud greenhouse gas inducing objects coming at you or honking madly as you slow down traffic do indeed have front bumpers for a reason.
A warm, inviting Friday night on the town can also have its hazards. What should be a stroll through the crosswalk of Main Street on your way to a ten-fifty it-better-be-good movie becomes a race for your life, since the signal for pedestrians to walk safely has an average lifespan of about 1.26534 seconds. Perhaps that little green man should be edited, because to me he looks like he’s walking, not sprinting the fifty yard dash. Stop lights are not a mere suggestion for a Lexus or a Mercedes, you are just as obligated to stop as that landscaper truck waiting next to you.
For those who have failed to translate the little sign that reads “Yield to pedestrians”, in English it means “For the Love of God Don’t Hit That Person Crossing The Street!!”
It is not considered polite or professional to curse and then spit at the young lady or gentleman who made your lunch at one of our many local food establishments, while calling her an idiot because she put iceberg lettuce on your tree bark and tofu sandwich instead of romaine. Think about it, do you REALLY want to eat food that was made or remade by a person who is secretly wishing to hit you with a crow bar? I wouldn’t.
Have you ever wondered why, after entering a quiet local bar and ordering a tutti frutti razzle dazzle drink that involves being mixed drop by drop, shaken exactly 37 and a half times, poured into a champagne flute and then topped with an umbrella and a three foot yellow twisty straw (Hold the cherry), that you get laughed at and possibly assaulted before the end of the night? That’s because you’ve entered an establishment of normal, average people. If you want something fancy that tastes like pixie sticks, go to one of those places where you have to pay to snort flavored oxygen. You’re the reason why a simple beer in a bottle is a whopping five dollars.
Here’s to another Summer in The Hamptons, and I hope you take these kind words of advice and cherish them, to make this season as happy as the last.