The Beach: The Hamptonzzz… Please Pass the Defibrillator

The Hamptonzzz… Please Pass the Defibrillator
Friday, August 17, 2007

We’re catatonic here. We’re lying in a hospital bed somewhere, tucked in tight underneath white sheets, and a cute nurse is sticking a pin in our left big toe and we’re not even feeling it. It’s that bad. What happened? When did the Hamptons become as exciting as a stick of unsalted butter? Where are the good old days when gays were harassed on Asparagus Beach and Lizzie Grubman drove over people at clubs?

This isn’t some idle rant. We have the facts to back this up. So before we chart our demise, like responsible researchers, let’s take a look at the big stories of Summer ’07 before jumping to any conclusions. And try and stay awake here.

Story 1: The SOCIAL concert series at The Ross School: $15,000 for a ticket to see five concerts. Wow! Let’s discuss this endlessly. Can you believe someone would pay $3,000 to see Billy Joel in concert? No? Neither can he. Snooze. Story 2: Hillary Hits the Hamptons: This has happened every summer for as long as we can remember. She didn’t even show up for the first two events of the weekend and Bill was a bigger draw than she was. Story 3: Piping Plovers: First they canceled the fireworks, then Ralph Lauren “harassed” them. Verdict: No one but the East Hampton Star and plover monitor, Latisha “Kill Joy” Coy cared. Story 4: The Weather: It’s been perfect. There was one rainy Saturday. It’s not even a story. Story 5: A Couple of Restaurants Opened: Tutto Il Giorno opened in Sag Harbor and the food is hit or miss. Townline BBQ opened in Sagaponack and the food is good. Check please… Story 6: Oh, wait… there is no Story 6.

That’s it. That’s all that’s happened in the Hamptons this summer. Even the heirheads—Paris, Lindsay et. al.—haven’t had the decency to at least get arrested out here. The Hamptons have become such a commodified, packaged, celebrity-appearance driven series of vanilla events that we’re beginning to wonder if they have a pulse left.

In years past, we used to have some fun. Martha Stewart used to start huge landscaping fights with the neighbors. We could count on Fabian Basabe to swing from the rafters at Star Room and scream racist insults at the bouncers when they kicked him out. The rich guys down on Further Lane weren’t afraid to complain loudly and publicly about gays having sex on Asparagus Beach. The publicist spawn of powerful entertainment lawyers could be counted on to mow down people in line at a club while calling them “White Trash.” Catching Peter Cook chasing underage tail while still married to Hamptons princess Christie Brinkley was always a possibility. Hell, now Cook is only chasing—if not age-appropriate ass—at least of-age ass. Ira Rennert built one of the biggest homes in America and pissed off all of Sagaponack and most of the Hamptons. Some guy used to run down the beaches and flash women and Georgica Pond, backyard of the billionaires, was mysteriously drained in the middle of the night. There was the murder of Ted Ammon—tragic, yes, but a scandal in the classic form when the contractor was implicated. Nowadays, we’ve got nothing going on. Where have all the good times gone?

In conclusion: Here's a plea from those of us who like a little controversy with our vacation experience. Will somebody please do something wildly inappropriate this weekend? We’ll owe you one.
· Joel Can't Get into a Concert State of Mind [NYD]
· Who Pulled the Plug in the Pond? [NYT]

Filed under About Town: The Word,

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