Maybe the Liar’s Saloon was more than just a bar. It occurred to me that I was precariously perched in the middle of
a fisherman-style group therapy session. After all, the bar was semicircular and everyone was taking turns sharing
while others politely listened, nodding in agreement. Other than the ongoing tug-of-war between the Hunter and
Papa about what sport to watch on the TV, people seemed to be supportive of one another. I surmised that when
fishermen and fisherwomen are out at sea for long stretches at a time and sharing cramped quarters, they say what
has to be said, then move on and get back to work.
Wireless Gadgetry
The Hunter occasionally glanced up at the TV as if he could
somehow magically make the channel switch from football to
basketball by sheer willpower. But that was not going to happen
as long as the Papa–Annie chain of command remained
unbroken. I wondered how the dynamics of the Liar’s Saloon
would change once the owner, Vinnie, got back from spending
the winter fishing in North Carolina. Would Vinnie defer to Papa
when it came to matters such as choice of TV stations? How
would Vinnie have reacted to Annie’s curse-filled outburst about
his mooching, beer-guzzling relative? I’m not sure if I’ll ever be
back to find out. There are subtle winds of change beginning to
blow into the township of Montauk, winds that may remake it in
ways that will keep me away.
The Hunter surprised me when he took out a new-looking wireless communication device—a phone, an e-mail tool,
and Internet browser, all in one. He typed on it at a snail’s pace with his oversized thumb tips. I have the exact same
model. But why did he have one? Why did he need one? To me, he definitely looked like a Montauk local, a
fisherman or a member of the trades hunkering down for the winter. But wait—maybe this was the device I’d
glimpsed him using during his discussion with Old Hippie. I became curious.
“How do you like your BlackBerry?” I asked him. “I have one just like it.”
“Oh, it’s great. I use it for everything. I can’t imagine life with out it. As a matter of fact, I used it when I came out here
a few years ago looking to buy a piece of property.”
I knew it. The moment I’d seen that BlackBerry, I’d known that he wasn’t a local like Annie and Captain Johnny and
Papa. He was a nonlocal who looked and dressed like a Montauker. He wasn’t from New York City, either. City
people stand out like sore thumbs, with their designer winter coats, flashy sunglasses, and wealthy swagger.
“So you bought some property out here. You were very smart. I bet it’s gone up in value,” I said.
He whispered to me out of the side of his mouth: “Seven hundred fifty thousand dollars is what it’s worth today.”