Don’t Be Ridiculous! No One Lives Here All Year Long

The other day, an alert “06880” reader emailed:

Is it just me, or are there a lot more New York license plates around town than ever before? Not sure if there’s a story in these anecdotal sightings, but is Westport the new Hamptons?

It was ever thus.

Every year around this time — along with humidity, pollen and new real estate bills — the New Yorkers come.

They sure were here when I was at Staples.

It was the summer before senior year. My friends and I were hanging at Compo, acting like we owned the place (because, after all, we did).

A woman and her kid — around our age — sat nearby. She lathered on the baby oil. He looked miserable.

“Go over there,” she urged, in what I can only describe as the heaviest New York accent I have ever hoid. “Introduce yourself. Make friends with them.”

“Mom!” he complained. “They probably live here all year long.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she replied, with absolute certainty and even more nasality. “No one lives here all year long!”

We laughed loudly, and obnoxiously, for a very long time.

For the rest of the summer, at random lulls in conversation, someone would blurt out, “Don’t be ridiculous! No one lives here all year long!”

And we would laugh all over again, again for a very long time.

Poor kid.