A Field Guide to the Chads

Every July, like clockwork, they arrive. You can hear them before you see them—a distant rumble of "BROOOO" echoing across the harbor, growing louder as the ferry approaches. The Chads have returned to Nantucket.

I've been observing this species for decades now. What follows is a comprehensive field guide, compiled for the benefit of residents, service workers, and anyone else who finds themselves sharing the island with these magnificent creatures during peak season.

Identification Markers

The Chad is easily identified by his plumage. The standard uniform consists of:

• Nantucket Reds (purchased that morning, tags sometimes still attached)
• A polo shirt in salmon, mint, or "Nantucket blue"—collar popped, naturally
• Boat shoes worn without socks, regardless of blistering
• A backwards baseball cap from either a hedge fund charity golf tournament or a boat manufacturer
• A $400 fleece vest, even when it's 85 degrees

The female Chad—the Chadette, if you will—can be identified by matching Lilly Pulitzer, oversized sunglasses that cost more than my first car, and a persistent champagne flute that appears to refill itself through unknown means.

Nomenclature

Chads travel in packs of four to eight, and their names are interchangeable. A typical group might include:

Chad. Brad. Thad. Tad. Tucker. Hunter. Gunner. Palmer. Porter. Baxter. And, inexplicably, one guy everyone calls "Moose."

These names are also surnames. Sometimes simultaneously. I once heard a young man introduce himself as "Palmer Palmer" and I still think about it.

Communication Patterns

The Chad communicates primarily through volume. Conversations are conducted at approximately 140 decibels, regardless of setting or time of day. Favorite topics include:

• "The market" (always "the market," never specified which one)
• Their boat, their friend's boat, or the boat they're definitely buying next year
• CrossFit, or whatever has replaced CrossFit
• That time they "absolutely crushed it" (at what remains unclear)
• How "this island has really changed" (they've been coming for three years)

The greeting call—"BROOOOOO"—can be heard up to half a mile away and serves to alert other Chads to their location. It is repeated approximately every four minutes.

Natural Habitat

During peak hours (11am to 2am), Chads can be found at:

Cisco Brewers — The primary gathering ground. They arrive by shuttle, rental Jeep, or occasionally by helicopter. They order in rounds of 12 and speak loudly about "disrupting" various industries.

Any waterfront establishment — Where they will ask if they can "just pull the boat up" to a dock that is clearly not a public dock. The patience of the staff at these establishments should qualify them for sainthood.

The Straight Wharf — Photographing themselves near boats they don't own but want you to think they might.

Behavioral Patterns

The Chad operates on what I call "finance bro time," which means showing up 45 minutes late to everything while somehow still being the loudest person present upon arrival.

At restaurants, the Chad will:

• Ask to modify every item on the menu
• Send back wine that is not, in fact, corked
• Request to speak to the manager (not to complain, but to offer unsolicited business advice)
• Tip either 50% or 8%, nothing in between, depending on whether they're trying to impress someone
• Leave a business card with their number written on it

I once watched a bartender handle a Chad who insisted the cocktail menu needed "more aggressive pricing strategy." She smiled, nodded, and made him the exact same drink with a $4 upcharge. He called it "much better." She deserves a medal.

Mating Rituals

I will not go into detail here. But I will note that the phrase "my family has a house here" is considered the Chad equivalent of a peacock's tail feathers. The house in question is usually a timeshare.

Migration Patterns

The Chad arrives in force around Memorial Day, peaks in density between July 4th and Labor Day, and departs suddenly in early September, leaving behind only crushed White Claw cans and the faint echo of "let's circle back on that."

During off-season, they migrate to Aspen, Miami, or "Austin—it's really having a moment." They will return next summer, having learned nothing, with fresh salmon-colored pants and renewed enthusiasm for telling locals how to improve their businesses.

Coexistence Strategies

For year-rounders, I recommend the following survival tactics:

• Shop early. By 10am, you can complete your errands before the Chads have finished their recovery smoothies.
• Avoid eye contact at bars. Direct eye contact is interpreted as an invitation to hear about their portfolio.
• When asked "do you live here full-time?" simply say yes and watch their brains short-circuit trying to imagine such a life.
• Remember it's temporary. September is coming. It always comes.

A Confession

Look. I complain about the Chads. We all do. But here's the thing I won't say out loud at the grocery store:

They spend money. Lots of it. That money pays for the restaurants and shops to stay open year-round. It pays the property taxes that fund our schools. It keeps the ferries running and the hospital staffed.

So yes, Tucker-Hunter-Baxter-Moose, you're exhausting. Your volume is unconscionable. Your confidence is entirely unearned. But you're part of the ecosystem now, whether I like it or not.

I just wish you'd use your inside voice.

And learn how a rotary works.

And stop asking if things are "authentic."

Actually, never mind. See you in September. I'll be the one finally able to hear myself think.