On the road to Williamstown, Mass., for Culture. Hoping for zero Thelma-and-Louise-type encounters.
I've been obsessed with visiting Montauk in the winter since I first saw Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind lo so many years ago (10! It was 10 years ago). It started out as a lark and turned into one of those someday things you keep in the back of your mind and on the tip of your tongue for so long that it takes on an almost mythic quality, and grows too big for its britches, when in reality it's a dream that maybe you're holding on to because you need to hold onto something. You know? The way I hold onto George Clooney and certain pairs of britches. But this weekend, lords a-leapin', I finally made this one happen. I rented a car at 8:00 Saturday morning, picked up SarahB at 8:15, and by 9:30 we were in the goddamn Hamptons. The roads were clear, the skies were blue, the towns were empty, and it was glorious.
Important note: the house from ESotSM (you know the one) isn't in Montauk at all but in Wainscott. I found a photo of it on Flickr a couple of weeks ago and when we tooled into Wainscott Saturday morning I just googled up a map and followed a street called "Beach Lane" that looked like it might lead us to the water. And it worked! And the house was right there! And we even made it to Montauk eventually. And I'm not gonna lie—it really was a dream come true.