Walking the 3 blocks from the Coney Island metro station to our Airbnb involved homeless people on the street, a mix of Italian Delis, nondescript Mexican and Chinese restaurants, women calling each other bitches and arguing, while a variety of color folk incessantly called each other nigga, one block eastward brought us to the Boardwalk, and any further from 17th St onwards was recommended off-limits due to the dense population of more aggressive neighbors. Our reason for a quick 2 days was a break before the city and the smell of ocean from New York City’s finest beaches…..
selfie with Jackie Robinson
many people were doing this by the beach. Looked like the hairy crabs from Shanghai
We were hosted by a Puerto Rican couple, the wife Isabella running a baker, and the male counterpart a man of the community, hustling in trying to beat the expected rain and flash flood warnings, while on his way to run a track practice for the kids. Our trip started with a quick drop-off of a rental car at the Atlanta airport, a short 2?3 hour flight, boarding of the Long Island Railway Road (soon to be on strike), an hour (longer) on the New York metro from one end of the city to the last stop on the N/D train. Tired and with the anticipation that we’d wouldn’t get a chance to go for a swim later as a result of flash floods we threw our bags down, brought in some Mexican food, and watched the Home and Garden Television (HGTV) for the next few hours.
The next day (rather morning) proved sufficient enough for us to stroll around, forgetting our sunscreen, gaining sunburns and enjoying the beach and boardwalk until it decided to rain from 3pm onwards. Prior to the pour was a gentle (and safe) walk from our Airbnb to the pier where some of the locals were fishing and crabbing, others jogging and biking, and beating the heat by dipping into the cold Atlantic ocean. It was a weekday the beach wasn’t very full but there were groups of summer camp kids and school buses lined up near the amusement park.
The first site we saw was a statue of Jackie Robinson who we’d learned was born in Georgia and welcome sign considering this was where we’d just arrived from. Walking past the minor league Brooklyn baseball team stadium revealed the city’s dedication commemoration to the victims of 9/11 as we came across Brooklyn’s Wall of Remembrance, just a glimpse of what we’d later see at the 9/11 Memorial where the World Trade Center buildings once stood.
Wall of Remembrance
Once at the beach we dipped our feet in the water as the noon sun scorched us. I would later decide that I needed to go for a swim as I’d never gone for a swim in the Atlantic. Making our way back towards the amusement park we watched as teenagers and children strapped into various rides feeling confident that they wouldn’t cry or scream, their reactions to the contrary. Seeing others unnecessary fear somehow brought laughter to our spirits and again I decided to set myself up with the idea of doing something after a quick rest at our apartment. I tried to figure out what rides I would go on but didn’t find that most were worth the cost as a roller coaster enthusiast I would have rather preferred to go a Six Flags and have the all my internal organs pulled up to the top my my head, spun around, dropped, flipped and turned every which way at unimaginable speeds. The fast I saw was the Thunderbolt which I didn’t feel was intense enough. However, being in Coney I most definitely needed to get on Cyclone one of America’s finest wooden roller coasters. Note that Camille had and has no desire to ever get on a roller coaster again after her first and only ride on a wooden roller coaster in Shanghai.
America is fat, it’s so fat it proudly serves as the home of the International Hot Dog Eating Contest. What better way for Nathan’s to celebrate America’s birthday but by hosting this contest each 4th of July. On one side of Nathan’s is a board red lighted up with the days, hours, minutes, and seconds till the next contest. Just below the countdown is the female record of 45 hotdogs by Sonya Thomas and 69 for the gentleman Joey Chestnut. They came. They ate. They conquered. We had a share of a chili cheese dog and french fries slopped with bacon and cheese and weren’t even able to finish between the two of us.
Full, hot, and ready for some sunscreen to hit the beach we made our way back to the apartment where we’d get provision for the next couple hours. But as we got up bully from the debauchery of bacon, chili, and cheese on a bit of hot dog and fries huge clouds appeared aways away in the middle of the ocean. Fortunately we got back before the downpour. Unfortunately we we’re unable to have our first swim in the Atlantic or go on any rides. More HGTV, a humungous meatball sub from the Italian Deli a block in the safer direction, and we retired for the rest of the day/night, happy for the rest before running around the city with mom and dad.
In case you were wondering, I did get to go on the Cyclone and it was exhilarating, Camille gladly took a video and photos. A man from California and his family including what seemed like 6-8 kids stood in line behind us began to give me a brief history of the roller coaster having mentioned it was built in the 40s renovated/upgraded once in the 70s maybe just before he’d ridden it last. He mentioned it seemed the same today as it did back then which was of some comfort to know that I would get an antique roller coaster experience. I was able to sit in the front but without my partner for life had too much space which allowed the turns and jerks to pull me from one side of the seat to the next. The screeching, whistling, thudding, and rustic feel of the roller coaster as it ran it’s course was a bit intoxicating and all for $9. From here onwards to a more tame metro ride into the Sunset Park/Park Slope neighborhood where we would be staying for the next 4 nights.
365 Travel Dates 