It was a beautiful Sunday morning. My air mattress started off fully inflated, so my slumber was not too bad. Something was wrong though; I wasn't hung over.
I headed downstairs and puttered through the kitchen. This morning I didn't feel like cooking, but I surveyed the rations and what was available. Shortly after, Paps arrived, shirtless as usual. He disappeared and I heard the door slam shut, followed a few seconds later by another slam. Nope, still not improved.
The rest of the house was still in deep slumber, so we decided to put on real clothes ( not a swimsuit ) and head out to town. There was a bit of a nip in the air, a harbinger of the end of many things to come. We hit the diner in town, a massive place that could hold up to 18 people.
I sat on the side of the booth that faced the tennis courts; inspired by the U.S. Open that was going on minutes from my house, but many miles from our present position. An attractive young lady was playing tennis, badly, with an older gentleman that was probably named Morty. He also probably had 6 cars, 3 of them convertibles, a summer home in all corners of the country, and most likely a boat, simply named "$," maybe with a smiley face next to it.
The diner was bustling with activity, and people watching was at an all time high. A man with two kids taking up a section meant for 8 - a hipster trio talking about money - a couple who jumped at the opportunity to sit at the counter, scoffing at those that wanted to wait for a table.
A teenager eventually occupied a booth that could hold 4. He was joined by an older gentleman, a young child, and a smoking hot close to 30 year old, dolled up in a way that she had some vices to hide.
Phil and I shared French Toast, and wondered if we'd ever be this rich.
Short of apple picking, we enjoyed the fruits of the town for a Sunday Morning. Making a turn down a road, Larry David and guest were leaving their house. Paps saw Tiki Barber in a convertible, and I swore I saw Brad and Angelina driving in a 50's Mercedes convertible. (They were in France or something) I was excited to get back to the house to do nothing, and when we arrived, the other campers were preparing themselves for a day at the beach. 85 degrees of sun with a warm breeze.....was not what it was like this day.
Their cab arrived to take them to the public beach, a place where you needed an unattainable parking pass to park. I declined to accompany them, as Paps and I wanted to work on our model ship in a bottle.
Paps and I decided to head out to explore the north side beaches, so we packed up Belmont and went on our pilgrimage. The beach was cluttered with thousands of little rocks, and we played a rousing game of throw this rock the closest to that rock. It reminded me of earlier, when 85 year old Gladys told us about the "clubs"in the area, as she sat and watched her grandaughter clam in the bay.
I'm actually falling asleep writing this right now.
Somehow me and Paps got drunk and made our way back to the house where we ate steak sandwiches. Business was slowly picking up on this last twilight of our Hamptons excursion. The roommates arrived back, annoyed that we finally started to have fun. I was reminded of when I first met them, and a silhouette of Paps face appeared reminding me, "Who are they? They're nobodies, that's who......Nobodies."
We got a "throw the football and a dive into the pool game" going. After wearing my bathing suit for most of the weekend, I ironically jumped into the pool wearing my regular shorts. When the ball flew into the trees, I decided to walk shirtless in between the shrubs. Acting like Sasquatch, I got the nickname 'bear.'
Uninterested in showering inside, I got my shampoo and body wash and bathed in the pool. Apparently the roommates wanted to prepare for their polar bear club activities and bathe the next day, so I disrupted the equilibrium of the pool. I felt bad, then "Nobodies" whispered through my head.
We continued power hour(s) through the rest of the evening, deciding on where we would go. Our goal was http://www.stephentalkhouse.com/, which looked like a great place to go, however I wasn't understanding of their economics.
The cover for their 8 p.m. band was 100 dollars, 10 p.m. 10 dollars, and 1130 was 25 dollars. I think we showed up at 945 p.m. and they wanted the 100 dollars. No one was in there. We ended up going to the Irish bar next door for a while, actually having a pretty good time there. One person in the bar stood out as "looks familiar," and Paps with the call announced it was Mark Prior. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Prior
At the Irish Bar a gentleman asked one of our lady friends to dinner. Married, he was on some Harvard Medical School Board proven by a large piece of gauze attached to his face and a worn out baseball cap that said "Harvard" on it. Networking.
We eventually went next door back to the Talkhouse, but had missed the 10 dollar cover, and had to pony up 25. Entering the place I was presently surprised, as the outdoor bar area was full of people, but in arranged in a comfortable symmetry allowing easy passage through the crowd.
As if it was a giveaway night at the ballgame, Paps got 3 numbers by just walking into the place. I got a shot of Jaeger, that I paid for.
Inside the building was another bar area that played faster, dance-type music, but bottle-necked into the main room/bar where the bands played. I quickly found myself alone as Paps took a meeting in the fast/dance bar, and CD took care of some paperwork.
After Paps finished up, he joined me for a few drinks in between his next meeting. After talking for a while, he invited me to observe, but I told him that I had a meeting of my own with a housemate. He replied, "Nobodies." Got it.
So we danced to the live music = Paps danced to the live music and I stood in the corner.
We met lots of people = me in the corner/Paps 3 more numbers.
CD left some things in his briefcase at the house, so he had to get back early, eventually leading Paps and I to retreat back to the house. Searching for a livery cab that would take us back, Paps jumped in and bargained. A second later another local cab driver announced that our trip would be a large percentage less so we jumped in with him.
The two drivers were at odds over this and alot of "halalalalalalala" ensued. As I urged the driver to leave so I could make cheeseburgers back at the house, our 1:00 clients entered the cab. Paps' eyes lit up as if a drunk bachelorette party had just walked in begging to party.
I = Cheeseburger.
Paps' client could barely speak, and her friend had a boyfriend, and I wanted a fucking cheeseburger. They allegedly asked us to party at their empty mansion but I had some business back at the house - cheeseburger - that needed attention immediately.
We almost hit a deer and then we were back home. I ate a cheeseburger. CD's business associate was on the couch.
Great Night.
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