Safe passage to a parallel dimension

i.e., a first-timer's weekend trip to the Hamptons and back.

Any place that can be equally identified with family farmer's markets, suntans, surfing, beach soccer, 4 lb. lobster dinners on a pier, bitchy women in Porche SUVs, staggering about drunk on the highway and dodging bathroom coke lines deserves carefully balanced consideration.

Having covered all those bases in the last two days, I feel I can safely report: done right, the Hamptons rock. At the far end of Long Island, past the braying NYers too wound-up to relax even though they're honestly trying, there is a quiet, easygoing, local-friendly strip reminiscent of New England's coast that is just breathtaking. It was the sort of place where I could imagine just hanging out with Billy Joel (walking, not driving) and chatting up "Downeaster Alexa" lyrics. I mentioned that it looks like sunlight hits the earth differently out there, in a way that would seem fictionally unbelievable if not seen in person. (The R.I. roommate felt obligated to point out that Montauk is at the same latitude as his homestate, but I'm not sold on Providence's natural beauty just yet... streaks of sunlight shimmering through the trees to illuminate vagrants, boarded up row-houses, and Fleet ATMs doesn't quite have the same appeal.)