A small-in-size but renowned-in-reputation village on the South Shore of
Long Island, where you can find a plethora of lifeguards, bongs, surf-racks, and gossip. A place where you can't
pee without the whole town finding out in an hour. The townies wear flip flops all year long, and beer pong is played, very competitvely, on any surface available. Everyone either owns a boat, belongs to a yacht club, swims, or at least goes to Robert Moses or Jones Beaches weekly during the summer. Everyone is athletically- or musically-inclined, and has unbeatable style. There is beef between private and public schooling, and a big distinction between the North and the South parts, but one thing about Amityville is certain either way: there is never a dull moment. So fucking cruise 80 miles an hour down Richmond, smoke down at Amityville Beach, stuff your face at Mike's and Blue T, pretend you don't drop into Brownstone's all the
time, get your ass to the July 3rd Fair and the Christmas
Tree Lighting, get big at
Dolphin, wait in line for an hour at Better
Bagel, and remember that this fucking Bay Village is a lot more than just Friendly.
Oh yeah, and there's always that house that random
people stop us to look for.
"Where are you from?"
"Amityville."
"Oh,
wow."
"Shit, the cops are here."
"It's
okay, I'm related to like 10 police officers."
"Have you ever been inside it? Do
people live there? Is it true?"
"Please shut up."