We took the ferry from Hyannis to Nantucket this year, instead of flying – I hate that tin can of a plane as well as the ups and downs of the flight there. As soon as we got on the boat you could see that Nantucket look everywhere – I don’t want to call them Arians because that is not it – but there is a certain look to the people going to Nantucket and it is sort of a cross between Patagonia and Ralph Lauren.
There is something about them though – a sense of entitlement that sort of creeps me out even though I love Nantucket and everyone who I actually do know that goes there in person is terrific and down to earth. They were sort of unaccommodating on the ferry, then they just don’t want to move tables so that the cafe can fit you in, and they sort of look stiff.
Maybe it’s a read that I have coming from New Orleans where most if not all people are just downright friendly.
However, one night at the Galley, watching the ocean with the sky and sea blurring into some sapphire blue and a sun that was blazing red and dropping like the New Year’s ball, and then looking around at all the white faces, blonde hair, and blue eyes, I saw a natural harmony with the scene that made me think of The Great Gatsby or maybe just a life in fiction, a parallel universe to what the one I am in.