Brester's Millions - Hamptons Style

Arriving in the Hamptons is a lot like arriving in OZ: it's a fantasy land filled with funny little people in colorful costumes who sing and dance a lot. I had a good time, but aside from my friends I detested most people I came in contact with.

If you're not familiar, the Hamptons is where New York's uber-rich go in the summer to show off. It really has nothing to do with the beach, these people generally hate sand because they are so germaphobic. This is about guys showing off their cars, houses, and Eastern European girlfriends, and where recently divorced Cougars go to prowl for their future ex-husband-benefactors. If you haven't guessed by now, I'm not a fan.

There is so much to talk about from the weekend because it's such a "scene". However, I'm going to focus on the party I went to Saturday afternoon.

The party in question was billed as a "BBQ" and was being hosted by a friend of a friend. The guy, Raji, was a 30 year old Wall Street millionaire. As we pulled into the driveway of his house (which was pretty huge) I began to understand what I was in for. Parked in front were a Maserati, two Porsches, many BMW's, a Bentley, two supercharged Audi's, a Land Rover or two, a McLaren F1 (in the garage - told it was leased) and a Jeep Wrangler - identical in both color and year to mine. I later learned that the Jeep belonged to the cook.

My buddies and I walked into the house and could hear loud techno music coming from the back yard. There were people in bathing suits walking around the gigantic marble entrance way of the house. In the kitchen was a chef chopping and skewering meat. As I took all this in some guy came up to me, handed me a glass and a full bottle of Champagne then walked away. I put the glass and bottle down on a coffee table and pulled a beer out of the fridge in the kitchen. My friend's girlfriend walked in from the backyard and said to me "Have you been outside yet?", I shook my head saying no, she said "It's like Entourage out there, check it out."

I walked out the back door which led to a deck. Ten steps led down to a huge patio with a pool and built-in jacuzzi and behind that a tennis court. On the patio were about thirty exceedingly drunk people in bathing suits bumping and grinding. There were two games of Beirut going. Two girls in tiny little bikinis were in the pool straddling inflatable "log" water toys playfully bashing the tops off each other with inflatable "clubs". Some dude in a straw cowboy hat had a microphone and kept saying "infinity...infinity...infinity" over the techno song while he flexed and puffed out his chest. On the far side of the pool a goofy little Indian guy was kneeling in front of a young girl and pouring Champagne from a bottle down her giant exposed breasts and catching it in his mouth. I turned to my friend Chavez and said "That must be our host...". He laughed, nodded his head and said "Yup".

When Raji finished his Champagne he came over to my friends and welcomed us to the party. Bottles of Champagne and glasses were brought out to us (what is it with the Champagne?) and introductions were made. Overall, I guess the guys were nice enough. They were just a little affected. It took me a bit but I eventually realized that these dudes were all dorks in high school in college who never learned how to interact with people. Now, they have all this money, and they act however they want (which is to say, like douche bags) and girls still hang out with them because they own Ferrari's and have giant homes in the Hamptons.

The BBQ turned out to be a catered event and the chef kept walking out onto the deck with platters of food and would make announcements like "Asian wasabi vegetable spring rolls with rice philo wraps and soy tahini dipping sauce, bon appetit", or "Braised soy chicken on baguette with sesame mango chutney". He kept bringing out food but he simply couldn't keep up with the endless river of Champagne, and eventually everyone was hammered except my group, who had arrived late.

The Human Louge walked over and introduced herself to Uncle Charlie and I. In a jumble of slurred words she asked who we were and how we fit in. We explained who we knew, but the reality was we didn't fit in at all. We asked her similar questions and she said she worked with Raji, to which I said, mostly to Uncle Charlie, "Hmmm, might be a little awkward in the office next week, no?", but the Human Louge didn't pick up on it. She then dropped the following bomb on us "But that's temporary. What I really want to do is make erotic female porn, all the porn out there sucks, it doesn't get me off at all." ... Not many responses to that, are there? Long story short, I asked why she needed porn to get off, why not just go to a bar and take home a guy? She said she never lets guys take her home from bars, which I said "Well, I doubt that very much, but go on." Uncle Charlie laughed and walked away, leaving me there with the Louge and no Champagne in sight. I turned tail and followed Uncle Charlie.

One little Indian girl, who was drunk as could be, but beautiful kept walking over and talking to me. Chavez told me she was the easiest of the group, but she was so drunk I actually felt a little guilty taking advantage of her.

As it got dark the many hours of drinking caught up with the main partiers. People playing coed semi-nude Beirut would hug for almost anything. Champagne glasses and bottles kept getting smashed. People were getting thrown in the pool. Things deteriorated just like a high school party would. Just as we started to leave it was announced that the beer was all gone and that the rest of the Beirut games would be played with strait gin.