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Vice Blog

NEW YORK - I WENT TO LONG ISLAND AND NOW I'M A ZOMBIE


A few days ago I thought it would be a really great idea to go to the beach. I decided that lounging at a nearby beach would be too convenient, so I took two trains and some long-ass bus ride to Long Island. I don't know one damned thing about Long Island. I didn't know anything about Long Island at the beginning of my trip, and I don't know anything about it now. But what I do know is that it's a joke town and only fools live there.

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After all the hullabaloo about getting to the beach, I think I casually regarded it for roughly 13 minutes, and then sauntered off towards other endeavors. Be it the smell of the salt water and seaweed, or the innate desire to go searching for things out of reach, I decided to go on a three-mile search for seafood. The first ridiculous thing I noticed about Long Island is that it's a coastal town with no seafood place. I mean, do they not enjoy making money? Do they not know that the smell of the ocean makes people want to unleash their inner moon doggy and eat clams and shit?

Halfway into my trek down an actual busy highway, looking very much like a homeless youth, I ducked into a country club of some sort and asked the concierge where I could find the kind of restaurant that would satisfy my sea creature gobbling urge. Some old guy stepped out of the back room and tried to direct me to an Italian place that was a few blocks away, but I had to give him the gas face and raise my hand in protest saying, "Sir, I really just want some beers and steamers." If you don't know what steamers are, they are these little green booger monsters served in a crotch-smelling shell that you have to dissect with your thumb nail before you eat them. So since that guy couldn't tell me anything, I kept walking. About 20 minutes later my lips started to fall off of my face, so I settled for some random place that actually did end up serving the snot food that I was looking for.

The second asshole thing I noticed about Long Island is that everyone is real damn nosey there. My waitress all but sat in my lap and asked my life story while I was eating. She even went so far as to point out a bar down the road that was "really happening after dark." Knowing that it could only be comic gold, I went there and tried to make time with the straightest girls this side of anywhere. I remember something about a fat guy on the bar stool next to me who smelled like a pumpkin scented candle, and getting into an argument about who composed the song "Everlong."

As is often the case, I went from having the time of my life to wanting to immediately be transported home in the span of two seconds. One minute I am slurping down cheap beer while watching the house band do some weird rap, and the next I realize that I am miserable and have no business being out of my house. So I start heading for the Long Island Railroad. It was like 1 AM when I got to the train station, and 1:03 when I realized that the next train didn't leave until 5 AM. I did a mental check as to whether or not I wanted to cry, decided against it, and bought a slice of key lime pie at a diner across the street instead. I don't remember getting on the actual train, but I remember walking home in the blaring sunlight, and then sleeping for roughly 89 hours.

KELLY MCCLURE