Rocks up his Nose

So Sam and I discovered a new favorite "vacation" spot we canget to without a car - Montauk, Long Island. Jerry O'Connell's hometown.(Thank you "Bachelor" from, like, two seasons back, I think.)

We are already scheming to find a way back one weekend soon, but yesterday we went for only 21 hours (well, including travel time. IN Montauk? 14 hours.) Montauk is only a three an da half hour train ride from the city and it's well worht every second. It's a beautiful ride passing by all the amazingly crazy wealthy homes of the Hamptons, to the very tip of the island - Montauk:The End.

We walked from the train stop into town in slightly cold, overcast weather and arrived at one of the two pancake houses in the town square a mere twenty or so minutes later. We had a WONDERFUL bfast, thanks to Anthony's Famous Pancake House and then began to wander toward the beach.

I was, in a word, ecstatic, to be near an ocean again. To say the least. Sam stopped to take a picture for posterity before I burst from happiness.


Now, as opposed to all the other beaches we've been to close to Manhattan - this was a REAL beach - pounding surf, soft clean sand . . . I can't tell you, possibly, how nice it was. We stopped at the top of the dune, amazed at the pure beachiness wonder of it - ripped off our shoes and headed to the surf. Sam jumping and skipping the whole way due to what ghe referred to as "burney sand." And me, finally happy to no longer be cold.


The water, however? Um, COLD. Very, very cold.


Sam, however, thought it was perfect.



Well, see. We had reached the beach and were suddenly overcome with the need to stay. Originally, we had thought there was a train back to the city at 8pm, opnly to find out once we got there our options were 3pm and 10:30pm. It took all of two miutes for us to decide it was totally worth it to get arrive at Penn Station at 2:30am if it meant a few more hours ON THIS BEACH. There was no leaving at 3pm.

So we hiked behind some sand dunes and did what every rightful public transportation vacationer does, and changed into our swimsuits.


It's important to note here, how incredibly, amazingly pale we are here. We are no longer this pale.


We are red. Very very red. But it was totally worth it! Every second.

So, once dressed appropriately for the beachey beachiness of it all, I curled up like a cat and slept in the sun while Sam galavanted in the surf. Alas, it turns out, the surf likes not so much Sam's galavanting. In fact, the surf hated Sam's galavanting. So much it dragged him along it's rocky bottom, scraping the hell out of his arms. See, here's Sam getting out of the water right after his altercation with the Atlantic Ocean . . .


But! He was not beaten! He was going back. That's my husband, the fighter. And champion of all fights imaginary.


So after an hour or so of just lazing about and playing in the water, we packed up and decided to see ho wfar we could walk. Sam wanted to try to see the lighthouse at the tip of the island, but it was too far. However, we made it halfway, which seemed like a true accomplishment. The beach slowly went from smooth and sandy as we walked to quite rocky. The surf got rougher and we got to watch as all the surfers tried to catch waves toward the end. It was a really awesome and wonderful afternoon.

We then decided to head back to town and walked back, this time along the roads. It was along this walk we commented on the amazingly redness of ourselves and decided maybe a nice sit down dinner out of the sun would do some good. I aquired a kickass, cheesy "Montauk" tshirt from a tourist haven and we settled into a small Irish pub for dinner. We did, at thois point still have five hours to kill.

FIVE HOURS.

We we took our time deciding what we wanted, and drank approximately one million glasses of water. The funny thing is, at one point, I hear something hit the table and look up to see what Sam could possibly be doing. What was it? Well, he just found a rock up his nose. From THREE hours ago when he got in his tiff with the Atlantic Ocean. I think we laughed for fifteen minutes solid. No, that's not true, I'm STILL laughing.

We wandered a bit more then settled for the last of our evening in a small sports bar to watch the Mets. When it was finally time to go to the railway station, we were honestly sad to go. I think for the first time in a long time, neither of us was eager to get back to the city in the slightest.

Goodbye, Montauk!



We already miss you.