After a bloodbath of an opening round that left the world's most hardened golf mercs curled up in the fetal position begging for sweet, swift release, it's easy to forget that the 118th U.S. Open is actually smack dab in the heart of New York's most super-duper-uber-elite adult playland. An oddball (and ostentatiously wealth) coastal enclave, the Hamptons—and Shinnecock Hills by proxy—are one-of-a-kind, as a soggy lap around Wednesday's practice round proved. Trust us, whether you're slurping down buttery lobster two tables from Billy Joel or squishing across 9 like a maniac while trying to get a glimpse of Tiger on the range, you're never far from the lap of luxury.
For starters, the lovely
clubhouse humble summer cottage
Nothing says "welcome extra-terrestrial life forms, you have crash-landed in a place with prohibitively high property taxes" like cedar shakes.
Bunkers you could put a beach chair in and not feel weird about it
Keep your head on swivel though. In addition to errant tee shots, Jaws also took place here.
Lexuses double parked everywhere
It's good to see the Toyota of the Hamptons still going strong.
A healthy disdain for vermin of all shapes, sizes, and species
If you can't boil it and charge market price, what's the point?
The hallmark of any worthwhile golf tournament: Crystal cognac decanters
Course maps illustrated by Norman Rockwell
We hear Andrew Wyeth designed the tee box signage....
A steakhouse in a tent
Second item on the menu? Shrimp cocktail, of course.
Adirondack chairs the size of your NYC apartment
Suddenly my life feels so...insignificant.
A man who arrived on a $20 million dollar yacht hitting three iron after three iron in the pouring rain...