A Young Lad in America #4 December 10, 2007Posted by Rambling Man in A Young Lad in America.
Tags: A Young Lad in America, J1 visa, long island, memoirs, montauk, new york, shinnecock hills
Part 4 – Long Island
We pick up the story as the “tourist thing” has been done, I haven’t been murdered by the radio seller and I set out for a summer of debauchery on Long Island …
Our destination was Montauk, right out on the eastern tip of Long Island – at least it was the destination of some of our party. I still had a couple of days to fill and those greenbacks were burning a hole in my pocket ! I had a job prearranged at a country club which I estimated was “close enough” to Montauk but which in reality was actually closer to Washington DC (almost !) …
Having wound our way through Grand Central Station and caught the LIRR – the Long Island Rail Road – we set out for the end of the island and passed through towns with some great names like Mineola, Babylon, Hicksville and passed close enough to the legendary golf course Shinnecock Hills – nobody but me seemed impressed with the facts that I reeled off about the great things that had happened there.
Montauk didn’t strike me as anything more than the end of the island where New Yorkers came to holiday and drink beer on the beaches … I much preferred the Hamptons but never, I’m afraid, made it to any of those fabulous parties seen so regularly nowadays on reality TV. The only real experience I had in Montauk was my first American diner experience, served by the typical waitress in short pink skirt, hair in a bun and chewing gum as she poured watery coffee for us.
I ordered eggs done some special way or other and was quickly asked “Howdeeya wannem kid ? In their shells ?” I quickly realised that she wanted to know what way I liked my eggs cooked ! I suppose the fact that in Ireland the only way you get eggs is fried, wouldn’t have had much impact on her. I also remember having to shell out $50 dollars for a motel room when one of the “friends” I went with said, right before bedtime, that in fact I couldn’t stay in his house and I could make my own way, thank you, bye now, door closed – all in one action ! Ronjoe’s was the name of it and it was a dump as far as I remember … next morning I set out all alone for Garden
Ciddy City with all I had in the world in a worn rucksack with a teddy bear good luck charm hanging out of one of the zips !
I certainly wasn’t in Kansas anymore … [sic]