August has hit East Hampton. And we are all agitated.
It's an interesting phenomenon to watch the August mentality take hold of every law abiding man, woman, and child every year - and it always amazes me. Suddenly the locals who have patiently endured every insult to their sense of civility and decorum are no longer taking anything sitting down. They beep their horns and wag their fingers at people doing things that would hardly engender a glance at any other time of the year. But it's August! And they just can't take it anymore!
And there are the August visitors. For some reason there is a sense of urgency and entitlement that seems to descend these people the minute they cross the Shinnecock, and they are ruder, less patient, and far less tolerable than their June or July counterparts. I love East Hampton in the summer, but if ever there was a time to escape, it's August.
So, here we are, with the most beautiful clear blue skies of the year, flowers of all colors and sizes that are overflowing their beds, and warm, clean beaches just beckoning us toward the (finally) warm surf...and all we want to do is hole up in our houses, pretending life is normal out there.
Can there possibly be a month as frustrating as August in East Hampton?