Dan's Papers - May 6, 2008

There are so many opinions, in this paper and others, about the expansion of County Road 39, that now there are opinions on the opinions. In another paper last week, Phil Keith, chair of the Town of Southampton Transportation Commission, addressed and defended against points made in an opinion the previous week. Even we at Dan's Papers have crossed to the protestor's side of the road and back on our opinions of the lane expansion. This week, we're on the cheerleaders' side.

For those of us lucky enough to live and work really east on the East End, able to avoid the construction altogether - well, as they say, we're lucky enough. I'm among the commuting entitled, driving from East Hampton to our offices in Bridgehampton. It's like living on the Upper West Side and working in Midtown west. Just a quick subway ride, some days express, other days local, but a straight shot.

For Manhattan-ites, north/south is fine. It's east/west that dogs you, as it does here. But with many employers in New York, it may be possible to choose where you want to work. On the East End, with limited professional opportunities, it's a question of if you want to work. So if you live west of the Lobster Inn and have to work east of it, the 27/39 merge is the subway that's stuck between stations. Every day, guaranteed. Any chance that the problem could be alleviated - like the new lanes - creates tremendous hope.

People I've spoken with about the changes on CR 39 are generally pleased. But I've experienced the construction, cones and complaints from the safety of my office. It's like hearing impressions of a horror movie ranging from "It's not scary" to "I didn't sleep for a week." My take away was: I'm not going there. And I had the same feeling about traveling west of the Bridgehampton Commons.

Until the need for a root canal necessitated a trip to Aquebogue. I had no idea where Aquebogue was (even though I've been an East End habitué for 20 years) but I knew CR 39 was going to be involved. I don't know which prospect was more frightening: dental work, the new lanes, or traveling to Aquebogue. The latter seemed like a big commitment - a road trip rather than a commute. How could I possibly get there, go to the dentist and return in a single day? Would I have to arrange for lodging? Is there lodging in Aquebogue?

I took the first step, asking for directions, and learned that I first had to go to Riverhead. I could do that. I've gone to Riverhead many times. Pottery Barn, shoemaker, DMV. Supposedly, Aquebogue was right nearby but who knows what that means on the North Fork - assuming it was on the North Fork. I could only hope a reservation on the Cross Sound Ferry wasn't involved. For some reason, I never looked at a map. To do that would make the root canal more real. Instead, I started out from East Hampton at 9 a.m. - 2 1/2 hours before my appointment. Who knew what would happen once I hit the cones?

Well, the roadwork and lane marking were in full swing last Thursday morning. And the cones. So orange. And so many. Yet somehow not enough. It was touch and go, but I'd given myself a day to get to Aquebogue, I could take it slow. Heading west seemed fine, I think. The root canal had put me in a state of shock - a natural anesthetic. I got to Route 25 with plenty of time to buy a few sheet sets. Unfortunately the shoes I was wearing were not in need of repair. What a waste of a trip.

I headed east on 58/25 toward where I thought Aquebogue might be. There was terrible traffic outside Tanger. Mental note: Never consider working there. I crossed 105 and there was the sign for Aquebogue. Suddenly the strip malls and car dealerships gave way to a lovely stretch. I found the office, went in, and was seated in that high-tech La-Z-Boy. Everything was covered in blue plastic - wires, handles, implements. Instead of a cheesy poster of cat faces, monitors showing hideous dental procedures, or a wall of diplomas and certifications, there was a window looking onto a bird feeder. Light music played. Not "You Light Up My Life," but cool R&B.

The dentist had the casual manner of a neighbor, a nice neighbor. I have a problem with Novocain - can't get enough of the stuff and said so. She asked if I was Sicilian, said they need more anesthetic than other people. Of course they do. Even though I'm not Sicilian, the stuff still flowed like champagne down a stemware fountain. But then the chair went back, the dental dam stretched over, the suction tube that looked like a squiggly straw was hung on my lip, and some sort of tinted, half mask was placed over my eyes. I lay there, looking like Hannibal Lecter, as the dentist and her assistant engaged in juicy gossip. It worked. I was distracted.

When it was over, I was given a little envelope with two pain pills and one for the road. I was concerned about drowsiness - I was on a road trip after all. Yeah, well, as doctors, they were aware of that. The first pill was Tylenol with nothing, just Tylenol. When the dentist tried to tell me how and when to take the other pills, it was the "wa wa wa" of a "Peanuts" cartoon. She wrote the directions on the envelope.

I started my return trip and of course, it all went smoothly until I hit the road pavers and line drawers on CR 39. Then we crawled. To be honest, I couldn't tell if the traffic jam was the result of merge congestion or the construction but it certainly seemed like construction because once I got around hydroseeders things opened up again. And in all fairness, even with roadwork, it was only about a five-minute delay on that stretch.

Impressive. The passageways were cleared out, widened, remedied. CR 39 was on the other side of its own super duper root canal. It's now in the cosmetic phase, filled over with new, aesthetically pleasing, impermeable surfaces. And on that 75-degree, cloudless day, the bright yellow lines on the smooth blacktop shone like a gold crown.

I was on the other side, too. I had traveled on CR 39, made it to Aquebogue, and had dental work - all relatively painless. And it wasn't even dark yet.