Last summer saw me eavesdropping on and reporting back from Fire Island Pines. Gawker isn't running "And the Brand Played On" again this summer, but with "the season" rapidly coming up, it's time to re-visit the concept. The following originally appeared July 30, 2007. All dialogue 100% verbatim.
EXT. THE JAMAICA LIRR STATION, ONE DAY BEFORE THE PINES PARTY
The crowd flows en masse from the 4:40 Long Beach train across the platform to the 5:03 Patchogue train. As the train arrives into the station, BUSINESSGAY (wearing a plaid dress shirt, suit pants, and well-shined square-toe black shoes) is displaying a court jester's hat to CASUALGAY (dressed in an untucked white long-sleeve button-down, jeans, and Asics running shoes) and CHANELGAY (in a sleeveless tank top with Thai script, displaying his array of tattoos, including the Chanel logo on the back of his neck). The jester's hat is tucked back into a black canvas weekender bag as the three begin to board the train.
CASUALGAY wears a face of concern as they board the crowded train.
CASUALGAY leads the other two downstairs where seats are procured. As the train affords no seats together, ALL choose aisle seats with BUSINESSGAY and CASUALGAY in the row in front of CHANELGAY. Once seated, BUSINESSGAY's cellphone rings.
Our house doesn't get that hot and it's all glass!
Do you know someone that has a house with a pool? 'Cause just go for a swim. Cool down. (BUSINESSGAY finishes the call and turns to CASUAL GAY and CHANELGAY.) Every time it's the same thing. Every house should have a list. Isn't there a list? Something to check off. "Done. Completed."
Just got a text from John. John, John and I do everything together. The three of us are like the Three Musketeers.
You know too many Johns.
Oh, I know. The other day I answered the phone, and I was, like, "John in L.A. or John in Denver?" and he was, like, "neither." This is going to be a good weekend. Mikey isn't coming out so I've got a room to myself.
A room to yourself during the Pines Party? Look out! (Laughs.) Last year I had a roommate just half the time, but when Mark was there, I didn't have to share. Gor-don has taken two full shares.
I like to be alone.
EXT. THE BLUE WHALE, ONE DAY AFTER THE PINES PARTY
The Sunday brunch crowd is mostly quiet with the voice of Sting heard clearly, singing "How Fragile We Are." WAITER, wearing jeans cut just below the knee, an Ascencion tee shirt and Nike Air Hi-Tops is moving a table to seat a party of five. Four are seated while TYPICALFORTHEMOMENT stands shirtless, shifting from one foot to the other and blinking arhythmically. As he waits, another party of five arrives.
The second party consists of four gay men, mostly indistinguishable from one another, all wearing sunglasses, tee shirts, and cargo shorts. Accompanying them is a tall brunette woman in sunglasses and a white cotton dress with a tan lobster pattern. Two of the INDISTINGAYSHABLEs are on each side of LOBSTERHAG, assisting her to walk. Her face, although covered in large sunglasses, exposes a look of pain.
Ten-point-oh for originality.
The party is seated and peruses their menus. LOBSTERHAG stares into space.
She has every prescription you can imagine.
Sometimes you actually need medical care.
Just wrap it. Wrap it in an Ace bandage.
A loud siren rings out throughout the bay.
Four-thirty? Five? Maybe later. I didn't really sleep. And I have no appetite.
Bacon. Bacon. Protein.
If you're going to be waiting in the hospital for hours, you have to eat something. Or they'll have two patients.
I need more room.
Okay, boys, are we ready to order?
I haven't even looked at the menu! But get me a Ketel One bloody. And put olives in it. This table means business.
Ketel One Bloody Mary for me too.
LOBSTERHAG puts down her menu and searches the table for eye contact, which goes unmet. A conversation about different types of Bloody Marys begins. In the distance, TYPICALFORTHEMOMENT has folded his arms on the café table and rested his head upon them. His eyes remain open, blinking endlessly.