Never again. That was the extent of my angry text midday Sunday as I tried and failed to find parking in downtown Sag Harbor, circling the four 15-minute spaces at the True Value’s back door like a predatory animal before giving up and miserably pulling up curbside way out yonder halfway between John Jermain and Cove Deli.
And all I needed was a bottle of 3-in-1 oil and six gold wood screws.
No trips downtown in August. That lesson should’ve been learned just the night before, as my 15-year-old daughter and I, not feeling up for a drive to Carvel in Bridgehampton, dared to venture across the Jordan Haerter bridge into the village for a postprandial treat of frozen yogurt.
The throngs, the nearly impassable sidewalks, it was like the Las Vegas Strip after the Adele show lets out.
Don’t get me wrong, nothing against tourism or tourists. I’ve been there, done that myself. Say, at another waterfront destination known for docks and high society, Newport in the Ocean State, Lil’ Rhody, which you people on the sidewalks might want to consider instead, for the superior and better-preserved history. It’s chockablock.
That’s true even of upstate Geneseo, when it comes to density of historic houses. Watkins Glen? They have ice cream there, too, no need to come here. To say nothing of a legendary racetrack; you’ll remember we lost ours to ever-present noise complaints and overbearing property rights.
All was not lost that night. My daughter and I greedily scarfed our sweet frozen stuff on a streetside bench. Should you actually pay attention to the passing faces, however, you might notice that surprisingly few seem to be enjoying themselves. If not desultory, maybe the word is obligatory; they seem to have been told this is a place to be, and so they come.
But is it? The beaches can’t be beat, worldwide. Our visitors have been to them, right? Can they get in and find parking? I hope so, because otherwise, walking around these Hamptons downtowns that have had what’s interesting about them assiduously removed — the appeal can be difficult to fathom.
Which may be why the only happy faces I saw that night were the ones hammering stiff drinks as they dined alfresco.
As for me, I found myself enjoying the secondhand smoke of the Europeans. This fresh seaside air, you don’t want to overdo it.