Part of my job description this past winter has been delivering this newspaper every Thursday to East Hampton. It is a very humbling job.

Delivering Dan’s Papers is not rocket science, but is arguably one of the most important functions of a newspaper, as well as very hard physical work. Our delivery team here at Dan’s Papers consists of a bunch of rugged looking guys who drive around in white vans with a cup of black coffee, wearing workman’s gloves and Dickies jackets. We keep quiet while we deliver, we are armed with scissors to cut away the straps that hold the newspapers together and we listen to rock and roll on the radio. We are an odd breed of guys.

You don’t really need to get dressed up for delivering. All you need to do during this time of year is dress warm. Last Thursday, I hit the road in East Hampton without a shave, wearing an army hat, a purple scarf, two different colored gloves and pants with paint stains all over them. I had loud boots on and a scowl on my face. The weather was cold and I was tired. I did not want to be a worker today.

But a job is a job, and if there is one thing I like about delivering, it is the tough-guyness I feel when doing it. It reminds me of when I played football in high school or rowed crew in college. My friends in the city working 8 a.m. to 7 p.m. in a cubicle don’t get to feel this way anymore, and for some, it drives them crazy and they join a gym, which they barely go to.

I find the romance in my delivery work, but not always.

So Thursday, I found myself in the Waldbaum’s in East Hampton. This is my favorite place to deliver in East Hampton because they take so many and it lightens the load. I parked my van like I always do and started to aggressively haul out Dan’s Papers into the store. I was moving hard to keep warm, but also to let out some aggression. I found myself cursing when a paper strap snapped, which it does sometimes, and began to quickly clean up the mess. At this point, I looked up and recognized a woman from my youth. It was Mrs. Holmes, the mother of Sarah Holmes, who I grew up with in East Hampton.

She looked at me with surprise. Her face was saying, who is this scary, unshaven beast-man who knows my name? Should I scream for help?

Sensing her fear, I put my scissors into my pocket, lowered my head and smiled a big grin. “I’m Dave Rattiner, I used to go to school with Sarah. Remember? I was the guy in the school play back when Sarah and I were in the sixth grade?”

I thought a lot about this question, although Mrs. Holmes didn’t know it.

Yes, in that particular moment that is what I was doing. However, I’m also busy at the paper as an editor, writer and salesman as well. I started a website, www.datehampton.com, and a girl in my office met her boyfriend on it. Should I explain all that to her? Will I look as if I am ashamed of my job as a deliveryman or that I’m bragging if I tell her all of this in this extra information in this brief, random, once in a decade meeting that somehow brought the two of us together? I’m not ashamed of being a deliveryman, what would my fellow deliverymen think? Life is about who you are, not what you do.

Her eyes lit up. “She’s a teacher and just moved south and is getting married.”

“He’s in the Army. He just got his pilot license and is now a Blackhawk helicopter pilot. We’re worried because he is going off to war.”

I (beep) you not, this is what she said. I need to do more with my life, I thought.

For those females out there reading this, it is nearly every guy’s dream to be a pilot in the military. More guys went to see Top Gun than women. It’s not because they were all gay guys. It’s because flying military aircraft is ridiculously awesome. In fact, if you watch the History channel, there is a television show dedicated to guys that do just that and we alpha-males drool as we watch anything that moves in the air with a military logo on it, even a fuel plane. We also know it is every girl’s dream to marry a fighter pilot.

“Wow, that is really great. I’m sure he will be okay.” (I was boiling with envy/jealousy).

“Yeah, I think so, too. Okay, well, it was great to see you. Say hello to Mom for me.”

Twentysomething…

Delivering