In the class hierarchy of trashy beach culture, we had the upper hand. For one day, the Sikdar family, with our plethora of advanced degrees, air of multicultural elitism, and token Mainline WASP in-law, rose above the fray of working class riffraff and thought, “These white people are actually louder and more embarrassing than we are.” And there was much rejoicing. In the form of golf-claps and hearty handshakes, as our traditional celebratory blowing of air horns was deemed inappropriate for the occasion.
We had the upper hand right up until we started losing our fake teeth and being shit on by seagulls. [ . . . ] Continue »
