24 Hours of Bliss

We arrived on the shores of Fair Harbor, Fire Island early on Saturday morning. The air was fresh, the sun was vivid and the locals were laid back and friendly beyond belief. I felt like I had landed on Mars. And I liked it. We immediately mounted bicycles and rode along bucolic pathways that paralleled the gentle sloping of the shore. We rode for a few miles, despite the heat, enjoying the fresh sea air and the genial gestures from the pedestrians that we passed along the pathways. The etiquette of the island suggests you gently ring the bell on your bike to alert unwary passersby that you are passing ever so courteously on their left. It's delightfully civil.It's fantastically rural there. There was a supermarket, a pizza restaurant, an ice cream store, a post office, a real estate office, a bicycle repair shop (as no cars are allowed on the island, bikes are the main means of transport), a liquor store and a catch all store that sold everything from hardware to garage sale items. Another habit of the island is transport of baggage and sundry items via a Red Ryder Wagon. There's a place near the waterfront where the locals store their wagons. No one ever steals them. Fancy that.There are no driveways to the houses. There are bike racks. Charming.The evening ritual on Fire Island? You take your glass of wine and walk down to the shore to enjoy the sunset. Everyone was there with their glasses of wine, their bowls of guacamole, social interaction and much merriment. Everyone knew everyone--coming from the anonymity that is Manhattan, this seemed pleasantly strange. We can't thank our gracious hosts enough. It felt like a week's vacation jammed into 24 hours. And I have the sunburn to prove it.