Fourth of July

Ah, the Fourth of July. Perhaps one of the most beloved holidays among the WASP community. It is an excuse for us to wear our totally unabashadly preppy clothes, start drinking in the middle of the day (often right before going sailing), eat lobster, and, most importantly, revel in our extreme luck of being born into such a fantastic lifestyle. Go to uour summer house on the coast of Maine where the rest of your extended family goes. First, the hungover, tired, and absurdly over-privileged teenagers and college students drag their asses out of bed, mostly to appease their parents, and go watch the parade. It's also sort of fun to laugh a little at the townies with their tattoos. (And it's ok, because they are laughing at you and your lobster-embroidered pants.) Then we go over to the cove where we have a lobster bake. After multiple drinks on a fairly empty stomach, we go sailing. It's often hard to decide between the Bridge's Point and the Sabre, but pick whichever is easier to rig and derig after a few drinks. When you get back and catch your mooring, head down to the pier for fireworks. Bring a cardigan, and probably a woolen blanket, because it can get really cold down by the water. Head home, make a bonfire on your cousin's beach, put on your daddy's college sweatshirt, and knock a few back. Fall asleep, and then wait the 364 days until next year's day of good ole' American WASPy celebration.