It's my island and I'll cry if I want to

This is officially my first Fire Island summer. I went out one weekend last summer with my friend Marisa and it was an insane amount of fun. Very chill place, really cool bars, lots of good looking guys... Beach, rocket fuels (a pina colada type drink that packs quite the punch), awesomeness. However recently the island has been infiltrated with the type of snobby people one tries to avoid all your life. You know, the ones that are usually out in the Hamptons. The kind of girls who, while in the market looking around for creamer for my iced coffee, would say in the snarkiest voice possible while rolling their eyes “it says ask for milk.” Whoaaaa biznatch. I didn’t ask you and waste your valuable time while the sign was right in front of me. I didn’t even speak and I swear there was no sign. Clearly I must have done something wrong to deserve that kind of venom... Oh right, I just tried to exist on her earth. Excuse me...

These same little snots were apparently crying in bathrooms all over the island over boys. I truly wish I had witnessed this first hand, but I heard from a reliable source that a ridiculous number of girls were crying and having heart-to-hearts with their Fire Island hook ups. Some of my favorite overheard lines would be “I don’t understand. I’m cute and small,” and “you are so emotional, I think we need some space.” Then there was the girl I did see, who was slumped over on a bench in the bar and when we asked if she was okay or needed help, she said she was having problems with her boyfriend. Yea, can’t help ya there honey... Oh Fire Island...