The End, Montauk

For most of my life, I've assumed that I was just a year or two away from living the sort of life to which I aspire. That is, the life of an easy-going, devil-may-care adventurer. Barring that, I always figured I'd live in the mountains of Appalachia or somewhere along the coast, sitting shirtless on the back porch of a run-down but pleasant beach house, sipping bourbon, thinking about going surfing, and pressing up against the tan body of a bikini-clad beauty in the hammock with me.