And while the free bag of Goldfish crackers and water the Jitney provides will do in a pinch, the pricey Streamliner ticket comes with premium amenities, like soft blankets hanging on the back of each motion-sickness-prevention seat, and gourmet sweet-and-salty popcorn. Another is the by dria dopp kit given to passengers when they board, filled with fancy goodies like Kiehl’s sunscreen, Saie Glossybounce lip gloss oil, Symbiome serum, and hangover-curing Superieur Electrolyte powder, all packed in a Paravel toiletries bag. The kit also includes a three-pack of condoms—intentionally or accidentally setting the Streamliner up for success as this summer’s new place to find love (even the temporary sort).
As they’ve been dubbed, HENRYs—High Earners Not Rich Yet—are Blade helicopter passengers-in-waiting. Weller says the CEO of Blade, Rob Wiesenthal, calls the bus “Blade for kids.”
Since Google and HSBC headquarters are both close to the Hudson Yards pickup spot, Weller said they’re seeing a lot of repeat customers from those demographics—young women and men working in tech and finance. One of those young guys was so hungover last week that he missed the bus. Weller offered to upgrade him to the helicopter for $500, which he accepted.
Friedman, who works in finance on 42nd Street, laughed at the mention of this summer’s TikTok-inspired anthem. “Now it’s cool to be in finance again apparently,” he says, adding that proximity to the stop, a guaranteed seat, and an okay price, prompted him to try the Streamliner. He aspires to one day fly via Blade, but until then, given the bus’s young demographic, he said he’d consider the bus again.
To be clear: The Streamliner is still, at the end of the day, a bus, and from a luxury-service standpoint, it has some kinks to work out. Like the Jitney, it can also get stuck in soul-sucking weekend Hamptons traffic. But, as for the bus being better than a dating app, Weller said it organically cultivates the prospects—like-minded people who enjoy the beach, the Hamptons scene, and have enough money to skip the LIRR in favor of “free” espresso martinis, Sweetgreen salads, and warm cookies.
Young people in the Hamptons used to meet their future partners and one-night stands in person, at share houses—home rentals that were parceled out by quarter, half, and full share that often put a dozen renters under one roof. Susan Spungen, Susanality newsletter and cookbook author, had a rather famous one in Sagaponack that she coordinated for seven years in the ’90s.
“It was an affordable luxury then,” she said, as Amagansett had a lot of old, unrenovated “cheap rentals.” She said young people, many of whom are priced out of this kind of communal-living situation today, could come out on the train and bike and walk everywhere without a car. “There was a lot of hooking up. It was easier if you were young to come out then and be part of the scene. It was less expensive.”
Kristin Guattery, who bought in as a weekend guest at a share house in the ’90s, also remembers the scene being about hooking up, though she recalls a couple of people who paid for a share one summer specifically to find a spouse. “I think it was a viable option in those days,” she said. “The irony is that my future ex-husband was at the same house a different weekend, and we met at work at the copy machine.”