So I went to Staten Island this weekend and imagine my horror when I found out it's not like Martha's Vineyard at all. Sure, I've lived in New York City for eight years now but besides once taking the Staten Island ferry solely because I heard it was free and not even leaving the terminal on the SI side, I had never been to the Island.

In my parochial, posh CT mind, I had idyllic visions of it being quaint white-washed weather-beaten Cape style houses with long driveways and corner stores where people sat chewing the fat with a fishing rod in one hand and a martini the other. Sadly, this is not Staten Island at all.

The damn island looks just like Manhattan. It was like learning there is no such thing as Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, and a porn star with a happy childhood all at once. While on the S30 bus, I was privileged to see the seedier reality of the Island's industrial waterfront and highrise low-income houses.

To boot, I think my bus driver was trying to show off to the hot little number in the Juicy Couture's because he was driving like Andretti on ten cups of high octane black coffee. My ass still smarts from the Dukes of Hazard style jump we did over the washed out bridge.

With dashed dreams of retiring to a beach front community and buying a wee skiff and tackle box and taking up the nickname "Salty," I returned to Manhattan with a broken soul and a Pavlovian fear of busses. I may look into this Inwood region I've been hearing about instead. Sounds oh so very Swiss to me.