It’s Sunday afternoon in Fire Island Pines -the morning was rainy but now the sun is hot and a stiff breeze from the ocean makes the beach a bust for today. After two days together and countless Absolut concoctions all of the housemates are getting a bit testy with each other – and nobody needs to bring up those missing Prada sunglasses again. The solution- put a posse together and take a hike to Cherry
Grove where you can always catch a “Pool Show” at the Ice Palace and need no excuse for a cocktail at noon. So last Sunday the six housemates and a hot cocker spaniel are three cosmos in (the cocker spaniel was having a Corona) at an outside table at Cherry’s. Between shamelessly flirting with the cute waiter with the hairy legs and watching drunk Long Island boaters yell at each other as they attempted to dock we notice that the ferry line has started forming. Now everyone can agree that no matter how big the house, a Fire Island ferry line is the great leveling ground and where everyone eventually ends up. As this line formed there were the usual sun burnt day trippers juggling coolers, backpacks, umbrellas and chairs, a lesbian older couple with sensible sandals and matching and monogrammed LL Bean bags, a gaggle of twenty something gay hipsters wearing white Ray Bans, two leather daddies in full regal with five small dogs in tow and there in that great tangle of bodies, dogs and luggage stands a stocky middle aged man proudly carrying a “styled wig” on a wig head as if it were a trophy. I wonder if they make you buy a special ticket for that on the ferry the same as you do for a dog?