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By Felicity C. Sundlun

It is one of the last days of my summer and I am taking a leisurely stroll through my neighborhood when I see it: a large rock, spray-painted in red (undoubtedly for extra oomph) with the phrase “Beware the locals”. Ahhh, the joys of a good turf war.

I have lived in the 20-mile stretch of Long Island known as The Hamptons since I was a wee babe. I’ve always liked it just fine – it is, of course, my home and, as such, has assumed a special place in my heart – but I’ve never felt the enormous swell of love for this place that some do. Nonetheless, come the month of June, I, like many residents, take up the cause of “Local Resource Protection” (to be honest, I just made that term up). And what do I mean by that? I mean that once the temperature in New York City reaches unbearable heights and the city dwellers start heading out east, I and every other self-proclaimed local go on the defensive.

Being on the defensive for me can mean anything from affecting a stony-faced appearance whenever one enters a public space (an even more stony-faced expression than I normally sport), assuming a more aggressive driving style – after all, that bicyclist is definitely not from here, and avoiding any and all beaches, restaurants, stores, and general areas that you would normally enjoy. For others, the months of June, July, and August represent the perfect time to buy a bumper sticker that proudly proclaims “MTK,” “EH,” “SH,” or any other such abbreviation of a local township. If that doesn’t make enough of a statement, why not buy a sticker that says, “City People Suck,” or, spray-paint a rock with a menacing phrase?

Where does this turmoil come from? Does it exist in order to keep the residents of a normally sleepy town entertained? Or is it representative of more serious issues that exist beneath the surface? While I’m sure the unrest is to a certain degree born of the classic “Us vs. Them” attitude that has been the inspiration for many a national, international, and transgalactic battle (see Cameron Crowe’s Avatar), in recent years, the source of the frustration has certainly been the effects of a swollen population with conflicting ideas over resource usage.

I’ve seen the once sleepy beaches of Amagansett, my home town, become home to crowds of drunken 20-somethings, their camps filled with loud music, beer, and the inevitable garbage that comes along with mass gatherings of drunken hooligans. According to The East Hampton Star, the newspaper of record, Kieran Brew, the chairman of the Amagansett Citizens Advisory Committee, counted 1,300 individuals who had chosen Indian Wells beach (a popular spot in Amagansett) as the place to party on July 4^th. For these individuals, The Hamptons represent a playground, a land of sun, sand, and sea, where loud music and drunken antics are customary. What they seem to forget is that for people who call this place home, The Hamptons are a place where they live, work, and rear their families; it is not a 24-hour nightclub.

This summer, I lived and worked in Manhattan during the week and originally intended to spend most weekends at home. However, my intentions soon fell by the wayside. After all, in order to get home, I would have to endure a three-hour train ride, a train ride during which the majority of my fellow passengers spent drinking beer, wine, or even stronger concoctions. On more than one occasion the train bathroom was left in such a state that most were afraid to enter it. Police were occasionally called to quell the unruly crowds.  Following the initial journey, the rest of my time at home was usually spent waiting in lines or in traffic.

For me, this summer was by far the worst. Although share houses are technically a violation of town code, the financial incentive for such a violation is too great for many homeowners to ignore. Additionally, the code seems rarely to be enforced – perhaps because of the tourism dollars that the Manhattan migrants bring with them.

Nonetheless, as the summer crowds swell, so does the frustration of local residents and so does the tension between those who live on Long Island and those who play on Long Island. Hamptons resident James Cuomo started a widely publicized Facebook group this summer called “Douche Spotter”; I’ve had my car (which has out-of-state license plates) ticketed when my friends’ cars have avoided such a fate, and on multiple occasions I’ve heard “GO HOME” shouted at perceived invaders.

On my last trip home on the train, I wound up conversing with a fellow passenger. She was on her way to a friend’s share house in Montauk, and when she learned that I in fact lived in the Hamptons, she assumed out loud that I “must love living there.” I told her that she probably enjoyed it more than I did.

 
Felicity C. Sundlun was born in Manhattan and raised in Amagansett, NY. She first met I AM founder, Tiffany Tzeng, at Phillips Exeter Academy where she wrote a fashion column for the school newspaper, The Exonian. She is currently a senior at the University of Southern California with a major in Communications and a minor in Consumer Behavior. Following graduation, she hopes to return to New York and pursue a career in Fashion Marketing. She enjoys brunch, miniature dachshunds, and dry humor.