Nomadic Thoughts

These are the richest of the rich of the East Coast: there are both permanent residents and those who have second and third vacation homes at the beach. My job is in the yacht club restaurant running food, among other things. About the only thing I don't do is cook and wait, which gives me ample opportunity to "study" the club's patronage, taking mental notes of what goes along with having millions and in a few cases, billions of dollars to your name. As an anthropology student, it's almost as if I'm conducting fieldwork that entails documenting the habits of a new species of humans.

There are just two main groups of people that would ever be on the island: homeowners and employees of the yacht club or the homeowners association (which I assume includes the security guards, etc.). As I mentioned above, you have to be either a member of one of these groups or a guest of the former. Prior to gaining access to the island, you have to pass through a security gate which is monitored 24/7. Once approved, you pass over the Intracoastal Waterway and onto the island itself. To the uninitiated, you immediately notice the differences between "their world" and ours. The speed limit over the bridge is 15 miles-per-hour and it never goes above 35 anywhere on the island. A terse message reminds members to "Walk left, bike right." Although to the average person these signs seem strictly utilitarian the anthropologist in me sees them as serving a dual purpose. Besides the utility aspect, such signs serve to let everyone know that "when you're on our island, you play by our rules." I cannot say much about other signs on the island because as an employee, I am not allowed to drive past the club where the massive houses begin.

The yacht club itself is replete with signs of social stratification. Upon entering through the front door, there is a simple sign carved from a single piece of wood that reads "Members Only." This is the most obvious example of separation that I have found. While the sign may indeed serve to keep unescorted guests from penetrating the walls of the club, I have a strong suspicion that it's main purpose is to make the members feel special, like this is their club paid for by their $40,000/year dues (not a typo). The prominence of the sign subconsciously reminds the members of this fact and that they are indeed separate and apart from the rest of the world while they're on the island.

The inside of the club, it is not much different than any other very fine dining establishment, except the yacht club logo is on everything. The dinner base plates, our employee nametags, pens, napkins, and bathroom hand towels. One is greeted by an oversized brass logo mounted on the wall at the entrance. Again, such signs serve to subconsciously remind the members where they are and why they are here. They are different, unique in their fortune and status.

I find it amusing that I see these types of things almost everywhere I go. The ways humans interact with one another in certain situations are as variable as life itself. In the example of the yacht club, we see a conscious effort being made on the part of the staff and management to allow the members to "live" their wealth. That is when they are within the walls of the club, which is the only public indoor space on the island, they feel comfortable. I make no moral judgements on these grounds, only the observation that there is much more that goes along with social status in America that simply realizing one is a part of a certain class. There is a prescribed subconscious element to class that makes its perpetuation virtually unbreakable.