At 7:30 I woke up, as if that was a natural thing. I bumbled into the shower, plaited my hair into braids (this will be perfect for helmet hair I thought deliriously) and biked to Tony and Caroline’s apartment; from there we biked to the station to meet up with some of their friends and catch a 9am LIRR to Greenport.
“Technically we want to get off at North Fork,” Tony said, showing us the map of vineyards “. . . although really technically it should be called North Tine. Eh? Eh?”
We biked around a couple vineyards, picnicked and swam in the delicious ocean, biked to some more vineyards (the last was notable for its CSNY cover band and puppies playing with sundress-clad babies in the grass), stopped by a bar for a quick lobster bake, and finally biked to the station to just barely catch the last train home.
What was it about Long Island? The trees everywhere, the old, small towns off the tracks? It felt like upstate. It felt like those trips to the grocery store in college, it felt like Connecticut, it felt like Western Massachusetts; the LIRR was the Amtrak I rode with my mom and sister so many times as a kid. The whole day wound up feeling immediately nostalgic, as if I were already remembering it, impossibly wishing I could return.
I stumbled into the apartment around midnight looking like a pummeled animal, hair snarled with ocean water and mushed under styrofoam, legs smeared with chain grease, my baggy summer dress still damp from all the times I’d used parts of it as a towel. There was not an atom in me that didn’t want to give up and faceplant into the hardwood floor at that moment, not a single electron that felt like taking one more spin around its nucleus.
My roommate Bianca was just getting into the shower, the air in the apartment cool and soapy. I stood there staring at the bathroom door like the village idiot. “A plum,” I thought to myself stupidly, “you have a plum. Maybe you should eat it.” A woman in scarlet lipstick and a long black dress waltzed from the living room. She held her hand out like a doily. “So nice to meet you!” she smiled.
Full album from Long Island here.