There is nothing quite like the New York summer. Oh, i suppose summers in Manilla, or maybe Saigon, or perhaps Calcutta would come close, but New York has a summer feel all its own best summed up as “moist.” So to take a break from the heat we did what all poor new yorkers do, we headed out to the barrier beaches of Long Island’s south shore.

Many people are satisfied going straight to Jones Beach, but i need to get farther away. I need to go where the water is just a little clearer and possibly just a tad colder – Fire Island. In a perfect world we’d hop the float plane (a nicely painted Cessna 208) that departs from the Marine Aviation pier on the East River at fairly regular intervals. That plane provides shuttle service out to the various communities that dot Fire Island. But Annette and i are not rich, we’re not gay, and we don’t own a home on the island nor do we have anybody to make a grand entrance for, so we drive instead of fly.

There’s something special about departing the first barrier island and heading across the old single span to the traffic circle surrounding the Robert Moses monument (known locally as ‘the pen’ where the monument on Jones Beach is referred to as ‘the pencil’). There’s a feeling of leaving the mainland (and it’s associated worries) behind.

Once parked we made our way along one of the boardwalks that traverse the swale. Poison Ivy grows unabated in the harsh environment and often seems angrier for it so elevated boardwalks and cleared trails are mandatory for travel. This boardwalk actually crosses out of Robert Moses State Park and into Fire Island National Seashore, so when it turns toward the water the section of beach you enter is National Seashore, not State Park. I mention this only because the rules of a National Seashore are far less numerous than a State Park. The first absent rule regards bathing attire; the whole of the seashore and this section in particular is clothing optional.

Annette and i really aren’t into the whole outdoor nudity thing, but it does reinforce the whole “come as you are” mentality. It’s also nice, if you choose to wear a bathing suit, that you can change right there on the beach and not feel you’re doing something “un-american” or, dare i say, “French.”

Better prepared this time with spray-on spf 50 we managed to spend most of the day with only minor sunburn. The ocean was magnificent, the waves pleasant, the breeze cool.

What’s my favorite part of the day? Well, swimming in the ocean would probably be first, but second is a tie between people-watching and plane-spotting. See, in addition to the topless women (the vast majority of whom should not be topless) there is an almost endless parade of jets flying overhead on their way to the international terminals of JFK airport. It used to be nearly all 747s returning from places like Berlin, Jerusalem, London, Paris, Amsterdam and Dublin. Now it’s almost all 777s.

As a child i remember feeling a sense of pride when i managed to glimpse a Pan Am 747 and thought how that was that really cool big building in New York City with that same logo up in lights on top. Now the planes are dull. The 777 is a fine aircraft, but it’s not the silhouette of a 747 which struck me to be the product of a designer rather than an engineer. It also seems American carriers are in the minority. Air France, Alitalia, British Airways and Lufthansa are all well represented, but where there used to be Pan Am and TWA now there’s nothing.