atmosphere By Andrew Metz Newsday Staff Correspondent Southampton, Bermuda -- In hotel rooms across this island, sun-soaked travelers are washing pink sand from their calves and salt from their hair, transforming themselves for a Saturday night in paradise.

It's high season in Bermuda, a 21-mile curl of beach edged by water the blue of a banker's button-down, and for those so inclined, dining at a gourmet restaurant, next to Ross Perot, for example, is just a phone call away. Maitre d's here, where stylish men wear shorts and knee socks with their blazers, don't flinch at the suggestion of a last-minute seating, apologise that the only space available is at 9 p.m., and then politely suggest coming a bit early.

It seems too easy, like the day spent swimming and snorkelling, but at 8.45 p.m., when two eager diners dismount from a motor scooter in front of The Four Ways Inn -- a Bermudian take on a place to see and be seen -- they follow Perot inside and are seated near him.

The salad of baby lobster and the sauteed rockfish, it must be said, are world-class only in price, but the headiness of getting in is a powerful salve to a scorched expense account.

Seven hundred fifty miles from New York, there are 53 cable channels and frappuccino almost like Starbucks, bought with US dollars.

But really, Bermuda, a self-governing British dependent territory, is not about imported Americana. Its essence is fresh fish sandwiches at Dinty's Lunch Cart, hundreds of species of life at the glass of a diving mask, the creeping cadence of the day.

In the escalating war of superlatives launched by Bermuda on the Hamptons, the truth is, as tourist after tourist explained last weekend, Southampton, Bermuda, is not one thing like Southampton, Long Island.

Perot declined to pick a side in the international debate, but it should be noted that he keeps a home on Bermuda and as of yet, has not been spotted even lunching in the Hamptons.

"Long Island has great beaches. I grew up there my whole life. But how can you compare this to the Hamptons?'' said Julie Agnes of Oakdale, laying on a chair in the sand of Elbow Beach on the island's popular south shore. "The sand is beautiful. The water, you can see your toes. This is paradise.'' Perhaps, but if you board a plane at Kennedy Airport looking for a substitute for East Hampton, an hour and 40 minutes later you'll be in another world, and you'll be disappointed.

"There is no question that it is beautiful,'' said Michael Dinstein of Great Neck, who was standing on a beach in Paget. But, "it's 100 times better in the Hamptons.'' Though he has been coming to the island for 20 years, he can tick off his list of annoyances.

Hot as blazes. Fifteen percent gratuity on every bill. Stores closed on Sundays. No honking or shaking fists at the 20 mph speed limit. In fact, no driving at all if you can't face negotiating roundabouts on a motor scooter ridden on the left side of the road.

All of which may seem sublime to someone whose notion of vacation means high tea at Gibb's Hill cast-iron lighthouse, or the serenity of tropical travel.

"It's beautiful. It's peaceful. It's civilised,'' said Helen Lee of Manhattan, who spent a week at the Southampton Princess resort.

A last-minute American Airlines flight to this beauty, peace and civility Friday morning cost $427, and the only real hassle was trying to squeeze through the Midtown Tunnel to get to the airport.

With no notice, minutes before catching a 757 bound for Bermuda, securing accommodations was seamless: Tourism agents and hoteliers offered seaside motels, elegant inns, shore-hugging resorts at a range of prices, beginning at around $180.

A Bermudian tourism agent suggested a 100-year-old inn just outside of the main city of Hamilton, the Royal Palms Hotel -- "really up to scratch,'' she said. And the co-owner, Richard Smith, promptly booked a tastefully appointed, $200, two-room suite, sounding sincerely cheery when he said, ''We'll see you in a few hours then.'' But such good-natured hospitality, as unavoidable as the oleander and bougainvillea here, can make a New Yorker suspicious.

Bermuda after all, more colonial home-style than cosmopolitan-culture, is not perfect. It was cloudy for several hours. Nachos at a bar tasted like Velveeta melted on Fritos.

Searching for the catch, one visitor attempted to induce road rage in a Bermudian by driving a motor scooter 5 mph through a roundabout, no blinkers, weaving and ignoring give-way signs. The best he got was a car patiently waiting to pass him, after he cleared the intersection.

But even though it's all so easy, you pay a price. The dollars can peel off at a Wall Street pace.

A taxi to town could cost at least $20. Teeing off at a championship golf course could be more than $80. And at Tienda De Tabaco, a Cuban-cigar shop, a long, Romeo and Juliet Churchill is $30 but something to savor, like the overpriced paperback copy of Thomas Harris' "Red Dragon,'' bought for $9.99.

Still, scooter parking is plentiful. There is no competing for towel space on the beach. And throughout the weekend, the hardest part of finding a daily golf game was choosing the course. At the Port Royal Golf Club, one of the island's most fabled, a local tournament was wrapping up Sunday around noon, so the pro suggested playing after 12:30 p.m. Plenty of time to reach the 16th hole, where velvet green earth vanishes off a cliff into the sea.

From this vantage, the virtues of Bermuda are clear, but few locals this weekend were inclined to boast, uncomfortable with their country's attack ads, crafted by Manhattan copywriters, on New York, a place that supplies them with satisfied visitors.

The ads are still running despite calls by opposition politicians to cancel them.

"I've never been to the Hamptons, but I think every place has something unique about it,'' said Debby Correia, a Bermudian building an elaborate fortress of sand on Saturday.

"I must admit, though, that we have the best beaches,'' she said scraping out the castle moat, then adding conspiratorily, "but that would be prejudiced, wouldn't it?'' A WEEKEND FOOT SOLDIER IN THE HAMPTONS BY HUGO KUGIYA NEWSDAY STAFF WRITER A Weekend Foot Soldier in the Hamptons By Hugo Kugiya Newsday Staff Writer Only the uninitiated, the wide-eyed wannabes, would bother to call a place like the Maidstone Arms hotel in East Hampton on a Friday morning to procure a room for the weekend.

An agent pauses as if she suspects the call is a friend's prank, a test to see if she'll laugh out loud or choke on the comical impossibility of the request.

Her words say: ''We're sold out.'' But her tone of voice says this: "What were you thinking?'' By March, weekend nights at the Maidstone and other tiny hotels are spoken for through the end of August, the result of regular patrons who make a summer ritual of the Hamptons and its intentionally limited accommodations.

"The city slows down in the summer,'' said a Manhattanite who rents a five-bedroom house in Amagansett with about 15 friends.

He declined to reveal his name, desiring like many in the Hamptons, to disappear into the landscape.

"For not much money, you can be at the beach,'' he said. ''There's good nightlife. You always see a number of people you know out there.'' That's the point that Bermuda's ads attacking the Hamptons never quite get: New Yorkers go to Bermuda to get away from it all. They go to the Hamptons to be in the middle of it.

Like the city that transplanted its soul here, the Hamptons can be a competition from the start, a pentathlon of getting there, staying there, eating there, recreating there and relaxing there, full of rewards but certain to make you earn them.

"It's all knowing your routine,'' said Louis Bell, a regular visitor from Westchester, who after several summers spent here knows how to avoid the lines. "If you plan well, you can have a seamless vacation.'' But the Hamptons foot soldier, one of those without a home by the beach or a country club membership, will find waits for tables long, golf nearly impossible and beach parking lots full.

If you are not staying at a resort by the beach or at a hotel that provides guests with beach parking permits, the water can seem protected by a velvet rope.

Only six beaches, four of them in Montauk, don't require village parking permits. Of the rest, a smattering provide a way around the season permit, the $10 daily pass. These sell out quickly, however, leaving you to take a cab to the beach or attempt to park miles away on an unregulated rural road and walk in.

After a few times of competing for expensive cabs, getting a parking ticket on a Sunday and getting stuck in midnight traffic on Montauk Highway caused by the valets, escaping the city can start to feel as though you've never left.

The competition begins immediately in midtown Manhattan, where the weekend retreat begins Friday afternoon. The Island-bound Midtown Tunnel, the traffic reports say, is a roach motel of SUVs and convertibles.

The journey to Montauk will take at least 31 hours if you pick the correct East River crossing and do not stop to get gas or coffee.

On short notice, selection of lodgings is very low. The East Hampton Chamber of Commerce produced three options Friday, in essence, leftovers. The only room available at the Ocean Colony resort, between Amagansett and Montauk, was a one-bedroom suite for $228 a night (total due upon check-in), furnished with institutional pieces you might find in a college dormitory. The sleeper sofa sagged; the room's surfaces were faintly sticky, salted over time by sea-licked guests. But that's because the back door leads to the brisk, blue ocean.

Awaiting you is a Hamptons moment, tranquillity on loan, in the form of the sound of tumbling waves washing an endless shoreline backed by beachgrass-topped dunes. The hotel provides the towels, chairs and umbrellas; you bring the novel recommended by Oprah.

This is what you are paying for. It's mutually understood that fawning is not included. Paraphrased, the check-in greeting went like this: ''Oh. You're here.'' Checking out was an equally businesslike transaction. No one said, "Hope you enjoyed your visit.'' Come July and August, prices will approach $300 for modest accommodations, and Friday requests will depend on cancellations or no-shows.

The cable television service at the Ocean Colony came with HBO; small consolation since the local theaters regularly sell out their weekend shows.

You will wait on line at the grocery, should you decide at 10 p.m. that you need provisions for the next morning.

Half-cases of beer, cigarettes and hummus dip are popular items at this hour, causing tempers to flare Manhattan style at the East Hampton Waldbaum's on Newtown Lane.

"Are you going to open up another register?'' shouted a man with 15 people in front of him. "This is ridiculous. Why do you even bother to stay open?'' Locals know not to shop late on a weekend and to dine at home when possible.

By Saturday morning, the popular Nick and Toni's restaurant on North Main Street had given out all of its reservations for the night. Dinner on a weekend -- entrees average $25 at Nick and Toni's -- as in Manhattan, might not be impossible, but it's far from convenient.

Newsday's take on the Hamptons Marina Van, head of the East Hampton chamber. ''They come every summer, even the ones who stay in hotels. They don't mind waiting for tables because while they're in the bar, they're striking up a business deal.

"But we can also be very quiet. If you want to disappear to Montauk or Noyack, you can. The Hamptons can be whatever you want it to be.'' If you're willing to work and sometimes settle.

The area has only one public 18-hole course, at Montauk Downs State Park.

Weekend tee times are snatched up as soon as they become available, a week in advance, by regulars with identification cards. Those without cards can reserve tee times only two days in advance, and by then few spots remain. The spontaneous golfer has one option, to show up after 5 p.m. and hope to walk on in time to play nine holes.

In August, walk-ons have little hope, even on a weekday. But in late June, your chances are good. The cable television executive from Westhampton showed up at 5.30 and teed off at 5.40.

He visited Bermuda once, about 15 years ago, loved it but has not thought to go back. He argued that reaching the fringe of the seventh green at Montauk Downs in two shots, behind the setting sun, as a pair of fawns crossed the fairway and a choir of songbirds acted as his gallery, all for $19 (the twilight rate), is as good as it gets.