Kathy invited me to visit her on Fire Island, a place I hadn’t been to since a child and had little memory of. Jumping at the opportunity I quickly discovered that getting there is quite the pain in the ass (no, not a cheap shot at their large homosexual community). Train to a bus to a ferry, none of which are timed to work together, to get to a place were everything cost twice what it should. Once settled in, I found it a surreal as there are no cars and everyone rides around the grid of boardwalks on rusted bikes, ringing bells to warn pedestrians of their approach—warnings which are ignored—while everything is pulled around on little red wagons. Deer wander so close that I could have reached out and touched them if not for fear of ticks.
I had a good time; I swam despite the harsh wind, climbed the lighthouse despite my dread of heights, relaxed despite my neurotic nature, and watched the beautiful sun set (no “despite” here). Thank you, Kathy, for the invite, and for those planning to visit, make sure you stay for longer than I did in order to lessen the impact of the horrendous travel. Just be sure you bring a backpack of supplies.