Montauk: The New Yorker’s Drug Of Choice

How New Yorkers spent their summer weekends.


You know the drill: pack up, bum rush the Friday 4:09pm LIRR and pray to god you get a seat; then when you’ve made it through the almost four hour journey (probably standing since there are never enough seats) you drop off your bag in the tiny corner of your friend-share house for which you will either be sleeping on a blow up mattress, a pool float or the floor, depending on how lucky you are, and make your way out to the first bar of the night: Ruschmeyer’s.


For those who know the lay of the land out here, you have to get to Ruschmeyer’s before 8:30pm, otherwise you’re not getting in. The crowds have already gathered to enjoy the magical outdoor space full of college games like Bags and Jumbo Jenga. The breeze is cool and the bonfire is lit, as well as the guests, and the party rages on. Inside you’ll find a paralyzing amount of people waiting to grab a drink, packed in like sardines dressed in Vineyard Vines, and if the bathroom is where you’re headed you may as well take nature’s calling outside as the lines themselves are just as long, if not longer.

By 10pm it’s time to move on to the next hot spot, ‘you only have the weekend so you need to hit all the bars!’ you think to yourself; so next on the list: The Point.

Remember you’re college dive bar? Full of memorabilia of a time gone by? Floor dowsed in beer and the smell of musk lingering in the air? That’s The Point. The masses pour in as the lure of the day’s sunset has passed and everyone is in need of something a little nostalgic. 80’s and 90’s classic tunes reverberate through the cramped quarters, girls begin to let loose and dance causing drinks to slick up the floors causing bumps and slips, but the party’s bumping and who wants to stop?

Midnight rolls around and there’s only one place left to go, one place everyone knows is a bad decision, but at this point we’re all making bad decisions… So, here we are, Memory Motel: where you go to loose your memories (hopefully).



Depending on where you’ve decided to sleep, this morning (or afternoon) may be: your walk of shame, lounging at your house’s pool (with floats of course), or starting out early at Gurney’s.

Yellow and white umbrellas dot the beach where party goers sporting the latest bathing suit trends are pouring magnums of rosĂ© into each other’s glasses while taking selfies for their insta-stories. Boomerangs of boys high-fiving and girls showing off their new sunnies are popping up for the late risers to get their FOMO going. Once the festivities have begun to die down (usually around 4pm) it’s time to get ready for the sunset, but where to go?


It wouldn’t be a weekend in Montauk if you didn’t make a stop at The Surf Lodge, reservation required of course. If you do choose to go the risky route and not book a table for the measly minimum of $1,500, then you better get there around 4:30-5pm to beat the rush, because if, god forbid, you get there when the sun is “just so” you’ll be barricaded from entering and won’t be let in until the sunset party is at it’s end.


Seeing the allure of Surf Lodge isn’t difficult, sand in your toes with drinks in hand, you feel inspired to take a load off and enjoy the view, but when the clock strikes 9pm, again, it’s time to move on. This time to Swallow East.

Pulling up in your Montauk Cab you can already hear the music from the live band playing through the pier side restaurant. The cramped hot quarters inside are countered by the cool ocean air on the back patio. Montauk Brewing Co. beer cans teeter on the edge of the railing as they begin to pile from the nearly ending night.

And once again, the last stop will be Memory Motel…



If you still don’t yet feel like death Sunday morning it’s time for the Sloppy Tuna. This place is exactly how it sounds; though with the last few years they’ve tried to make it more “family friendly”, fortunately unsuccessfully. So with your poorly stuffed weekender in hand, and wearing whatever remaining clothes you think might be clean, you make your last hurrah with a couple of BBCs before you race to the train to catch the 4pm back to Penn Station and pass out. Repeat it all next weekend.

Was it worth it? Lets reverse those famous lyrics from R. Kelly’s Bump N’ Grind – my body’s telling me no, but my mind… my mind is telling me yes.

Remember to follow my Instagram for my daily adventures, and, as always, safe travels!

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