THE OTHER HALF

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (08-04-22)- Please remember small business in your town during this coronavirus pandemic

     We spent last weekend in the Hamptons with our friends Laurie and Mark, who are lovely, down-to-Earth people. But there is no denying that if you pay close attention, you can see exactly how the other half lives. They are everywhere out here, people who are made of money, rolling in dough, worth zillions of dollars. They don't want you to know it, and they don't want you to forget it. The last thing they would do is drive around ostentatiously in a $200,000 convertible. Actually that might be the second-to-last thing they would do, because I see it all the time.

     We didn't have a limousine waiting for us, so we had to brave the Friday traffic ourselves. I prefer the High Occupancy Vehicle lane so I don't have to worry about people trying to pass me to get there faster (we're all going four miles per hour). We High Occupants drive in one long lethargic line, single-file, slowly saving the planet. I like the HOV lane so much that I once mistakenly took it driving by myself, a Low Occupant, and I passed a cop in a cop car. At first I was afraid that he would light me up and tell me to pull over onto the High Occupancy breakdown lane, which is only for people with at least two flat tires. Then I realized that the cop was just as afraid of me as I was of him, because if he stopped me, I could place HIM under citizen's arrest for being in a Low Occupancy cop car, and we'd both have to try to drive with handcuffs on. Then I saw a sign that said:  "HOV Violations = Points on your License." Usually the person with the most points wins, so I drove with renewed confidence.

     Anyone named Rick has missed being born Rich by one letter. But I just know I would be totally worthless in the role of someone worth a lot of money. I wouldn't know how to act the part, and I'm not sure I would even like the part. When I used to go to clubs in Manhattan there was a roped-off VIP area that you could only get in if you impressed the bouncer and ordered a lot of champagne. Everyone in those rarified seats always looked miserable, like they were imprisoned inside those ropes, wishing that they could trade places with me, just for a moment, just long enough to catapult me into a horrible tax bracket.

     People who were born into money seem to know what to do instinctively. They come out of the womb knowing what a bowsprit is. They know which wine goes with foie gras. They know what foie gras is. They hire domestic help based on foreign policy. They belong to golf clubs at which they use... golf clubs.

     For me it would be a long learning curve. If I was in the song "You're so Vain," for instance, I would have showed up at Saratoga to see the total eclipse of the sun, and after missing it, I would have continued on to Nova Scotia to see my horse naturally win, but there's no race track there. My Lear jet pilot is paid by the trip so he doesn't care. I heard about "court side seats" often enough from rich people, and when I finally scored some, it was a really boring case so I'm not sure what all the fuss is about.

     I really don't need much, just a nice place in the south of France and a super-yacht, one with super powers, say, from the planet Krypton. I'm already well on my way to achieving these goals, because I bought a some property in Antarctica, which is as south of France as you can get. I'll put in pool, and then just wait for global warming to work its magic. I'm using as many fossil fuels as I can get my hands on to speed things up.

     But really, there's nothing more boring than people who are bored by the mundane. Most of life is unexceptional, and you have to learn to embrace that. You have to add something to it to get something out of it. The "other half" is really about one percent, which means that the other 99 percent are the ones that make the world go 'round. So Rich People of the Hamptons, don't make me feel bad just because I haven't had "work done." I'd rather be poor and homely than, well, who the hell am I kidding, I'd rather be rich and homely.

     Oops I have to go, my helicopter is here to pick me up. I couldn't afford a private one, and it took a lot of convincing to get into this one, so I don't want to be late. Every 20 minutes I just have to give the traffic and weather together, even if they're not getting along. I don't want to spoil my report, so I'll just say that if you have a face that can stop traffic, now would be the time to use it.