After a substantial break, I finally returned to the Hamptons, and it was as great as ever.

As many of the loyal readers know, I’ve made a couple trips up to a working class farm in the Hamptons over the years to rub elbows with America’s elites. (RELATED: David Hookstead Is The True King In The North When It Comes To College Football)

After all, if I want to join them and burn down the system from within, then I need to learn to speak the language of these people.

Well, I can safely say this was the most roller coaster ride of a trip I’ve ever taken up here.

To be crystal clear, pretty much everyone I’ve ever met in the Hamptons has been cool. They’re like renegade rednecks who live on the beach and work the land for a living.

It’s not all Hollywood lights and glamor. The people I associate with are the salt of the Earth, and I’d take any of them in my foxhole during a war any day of the week. They’re my kind of people.

Having said that, this trip was a shade different. Let’s start right at the beginning. Upon arriving, I noticed our beer supply was rather low. Obviously, that’s a huge red flag. How are we supposed to embrace the blue-collar roots of the farmhouse if we have no beer?

We hopped into the vehicle, went into town (where they probably spotted my poverty from a mile away) and hit up the first liquor store we could find.

What happened next might shock some of you. I asked for a few cases of Busch Light, and the guy working the counter straight up laughed in my face. It was like I had just insulted his kids or kicked his dog.

To sum it up, I left without any Busch Light.

Things only got more interesting from there. What happens when a working class man tries to buy a pizza in the Hamptons?

His local bank freezes his credit card on suspicion of fraud. Why? Because clearly there’s no reason why a guy like me, who has had to scrape and claw for everything in life, would ever be in the Hamptons.

I’m not even kidding. I literally called a pizza place, ordered two pizzas and some gluten free pasta (not for me) and my bank froze my credit card.

I sat there in shock wondering what the hell had happened, and the person next to me was literally laughing. I’m so rural in my roots that the moment the bank heard about me buying two pizzas and gluten free pasta, they just assumed my card had been stolen.

Finally, as a huge history buff, I decided to go visit the spot in Amagansett where the Nazis landed during WWII, which is a great historical story.

We decided to do a little clay pigeon shooting in honor of our WWII heroes, who paved the way for my generation to succeed.

What did some Karen do when she spotted people who don’t trade bonds and use the word “summer” as a verb on the beach enjoying the area? Called the police on us!

For the record, being a blue-collar guy from Wisconsin isn’t a crime. At least, it’s not a crime yet. I was literally shocked at this. Shocked.

Luckily, the police officer was incredibly polite and left after making some small talk. That’s why we back the blue!

So, after all that chaos, we decided to just relax, cook some amazing food, drink a few cheap beers and enjoy our time.

Despite the fact the universe was literally conspiring against me, we still managed to have a hell of a time in the Hamptons.

Hopefully, next time I’m here, the police don’t get called, my bank stops assuming when I spend more than $20 that my card has been stolen and they start stocking the stores with some Busch Light.

Until next time, keep being real!