Mission Impossible

It was a Friday around 2 p.m. My mission, which I chose to accept, was to drop a package at UPS.

As I drove there, the “Mission Impossible” song went through my head: “Dun dun dundun dun dun dundun doodle-doo, doodle-doo …”

The traffic crawled. When I approached the store, my internal theme song stopped. Abort! Abort! There’s no parking! A car is double-parked in front!

Ah, the Hamptons, where people double-park because they’re special.

Crowds? Traffic? This annual topic is so cliché. Are we really going down this road? Again?

We are. But we’ll go down it at a slow 11 mph, the approximate speed we move as we creep into Bridgehampton on a summer day.

You might recall the other times I’ve written about our summer traffic: When it took me 30 minutes to get from Bridgehampton to Water Mill while shopping for coconut wraps. Or when I felt despair while attempting a left turn on Route 27.

Those columns were years ago. This year is different. The traffic is worse than ever.

How do I know? Recently, it took me one hour to drive 11.5 miles from East Hampton to Noyac. The outbound rush hour seems to start at 11 a.m., not 3 p.m., like it used to. And have you tried to merge from Little Cobb Road onto Route 27 lately? People won’t let you in. Because they’re special.

Special people don’t know the golden rule: “Letteth merging cars zipper in or be smited.” This is either from the DMV’s Driving Manual, or Leviticus, I’m not sure.

This summer, any time we go out, it feels like were on a road to hell. And that road is paved with TikTok/Instagram influencers, chicken salad and breakfast biscuit sandwiches.

We’re barraged all day by little bytes of nonsensical ether from our phones. That causes these slowdowns. It’s the butterfly effect. First, people watch an influencer raving about Round Swamp Farm’s chicken salad, or regaling Sagaponack General Store’s breakfast biscuit sandwich. Then those people think, “I want to go to there” — and they get in their cars.

When I started coming here in the late 1980s, we had fewer activities. We went to the beach, or we hung out at our rental’s pool. We grilled fish at home and treated ourselves to Nick & Toni’s once a summer.

I was boring, so I probably only went to Stephen Talkhouse twice. I never went to Montauk or the Boardy Barn. Funny thing, I always thought the locals’ strong accents made it “Bawdy Barn” instead of Boardy Barn. If the shoe fits …

On rainy days, we’d go into town. The parking lots were crowded, because everyone had the same idea. That’s true today — there are just more people and more ideas: Go to Sagaponack for breakfast. Get lunch at Round Swamp. Take selfies and buy a hat at Amber Waves. Wait in line at Crow’s Nest. Look for parking in Sag Harbor.

You need to get to Sag Harbor early, or all you’ll do is search for parking. It’s like trying to beat Germans to pool chairs at an all-inclusive resort in Cancun.

No wonder I couldn’t drop off my Old Navy returns! I’m not special enough to double-park in front of UPS. My only recourse was to go on Monday, early, while the special people were eating their breakfast biscuit sandwiches.

Do I sound old and cranky? Will I start yelling at people to get off my lawn? (Actually, I’d love to yell at my neighbor’s tennis court guy.)

I am old. My Talkhouse days were (a shocking!) 40 years ago.

And I’m cranky. I get thwarted on the regular. I recently went to White’s Pharmacy — unbelievably, my doctor gave me a paper prescription like it was 1957. When I returned to my car, someone special had double-parked and blocked me in!

Fortunately, I got out when the guy in front of me left. I didn’t meet the culprit, but I bet he suffered no consequences.

Because when you’re special, they just let you do it.

I don’t want to deprive anyone of their chicken salads or their breakfast biscuit sandwiches. I’ve had both, and they’re delicious. When the rubber meets the road, everyone has the same right to our streets and parking spots. Even the special people. But they should drive/park courteously or prepare to be smited. It says so in both the DMV’s Driving Manual and Leviticus.

Since I’m griping, let’s discuss pedestrians. Walkers should be situationally aware. If their Air Pods are in, they won’t hear my electric car. As Leviticus says, the golden rule of strolling is: “When on the road, walk-eth toward the flow of traffic so you can see-eth oncoming cars.”

As for cyclists? Welp. All I can say is good luck.

Those are my grievances. Rant over.

Except.

Except I just learned that from October 1, the HOV lane on the Long Island Expressway won’t be accessible to single occupants in electric cars during peak hours. Congress and the president wouldn’t reauthorize the Clean Pass program.

Big, Beautiful Bill? More like Big, Bitter (and Petty) Bill. Now I have to write another column about traffic!

Okay. My rant is really over, but I’ll leave you with three things.

Package delivered. Mission accomplished. “Doodle-doo …”

We’ll soon be on the road to recovery. Tumbleweed Tuesday is next week.

Next year, the traffic will be the worst ever. Guaranteed.