On Monday, I decided to head to Fire Island on a reconnaissance mission. I had heard that things were open there, but I wasn’t sure how things were functioning in the midst of the Covid pandemic, so I thought I should investigate myself to see if taking a vacation there was even a possibility.
As soon as I got off the ferry, there were signs everywhere about masks and social distancing being required. (I later discovered that there was even assigned seating at Cherry’s.)
I soon settled into a table at Sand Castle for a lobster roll, and I couldn’t stop smiling. “Where do they find these boys every year, with their short shorts and big asses?” I asked myself. I immediately posted on my Facebook page, “I’m already more gay than when I got here!”
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| Sand Castle: "I'm already more gay than when I got here!" |
After lunch, I set myself up on the beach with the new beach umbrella I’d bought at Goodies. It kept falling over and getting blown inside out (did I mention that I’m not really a beach person?), so I decided to check out the Belvedere to see if a room was even available. They told me that there was a Basic, Standard and Economy room available, as well as a Luxury room, so I proceeded with my usual walk on the beach from the end of the Grove to the end of the Pines. Returning to the Belvedere exhausted, I thought, “Fuck it, I might as well check in.” They said I could have an Economy Room for the Basic rate (because the Basic room wasn’t ready yet) and, besides, it had just been renovated!
Just as a piece of architecture, the Belvedere is beautiful. The fact that it’s also a functioning hotel is almost beside the point. But lately I find that I’ve become one of those grizzled old-timers, telling people about my years on Fire Island.
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| Even the Belvedere lions are wearing masks! |
I’ve been coming to the Belvedere since at least 2000, but my first time on Fire Island was July 4, 1986, when I decided to take a day trip and accidentally stumbled upon The Invasion of the Pines, an event where drag queens from Cherry Grove “invade” The Pines.
Now when I go to the Belvedere, it’s like a trip down memory lane and there are stories associated with each room. Coincidentally, the room I stayed in this year (The Violet Chapel) was the subject of one of my previous blog posts (http://thegaycurmudgeon.blogspot.com/2014/07/fire-island-you-cant-go-home-again-or.html). That room is next door to The Seasons, the first room I stayed at in 2000, which at the time was a $90 Economy room overlooking the pool and is now a Deluxe room with a staircase that was added outside for fire safety reasons (but which I feel is architecturally inconsistent).
Then there are the stories of my various sexual conquests at the Belvedere, including the staff member in a red jockstrap who brought me a strawberry margarita.
One time I brought back a guy who was so drunk (or high) he tried to take his pants off over his head, and I made him walk up (and down) the Belvedere’s spiral staircase.
I’ve been going to the Belvedere so long, I remember the original owner of the Belvedere, John Eberhardt. He was a pencil factory heir, and one of the things I remember about him is that he always had a much younger, blonde boyfriend. (I’m not sure what the twenty-something blonde saw in his eighty-ish partner, unless he hoped to inherit his fortune.)
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| Obligatory sunset. |
By the time I’d finished my “investigation,” my day trip had turned into an overnight stay. Fire Island had once again cast its magic spell.
