I wonder how many people consider Coney Island a "wonder"? Maybe back in the late 19th century, before Atlantic City became a gambling resort and adult playground...
Coney Island is a sand-spit peninsula, possibly disconnected from the main body of Long Island by a small creek, and the most southern bit of the County of Kings--AKA Brooklyn. Named for a slang term the Dutch used for rabbits, Coney Island has projects, Astroland Park, the original Nathan's Hotdog Stand, Keyspan Park (a baseball stadium), and one of the nastiest beaches this side of Chernobyl.
Astroland Park is home to an official New York City Landmark:
The wooden rollercoaster Cyclone has been around since 1927, and when it opened it cost only a quarter to ride. I've just learned that now it costs eight bucks. It's still worth it.
Astroland Park, (below: seen from the beach) is a collection of carnies and hucksters, rides and games...but now the barkers have hi-tech equipment like PA systems and microphones, where they complement your bathing suit or hair as you pass by, and try to get you to spend some money and win some useless wasteful crap. It is nice to win that crap, but we usually only bring enough money for the Cyclone and beer.
In the next picture, which I believe was taken from some ride I don't fully remember riding, shows the full spectrum of Astroland; the dense fair layout (virtually the same I imagine, outside of the pavement, from the look in twenties), one of the numerous elevated trains coming in, and housing projects in the distance.
However you feel about the scummy atmosphere, it can't be denied that in New York City, at the end of four separate subway lines, lies a beach, a boardwalk, and a carnival complete with a bitchin' rollercoaster. It takes about forty-five minutes to get there by subway from Manhattan.
The beach isn't really all that disgusting. I remember being at Long Beach in California and watching the sea-foam lap on the shore, visibly brown mixed with vomit-green, churning your stomach and making you question why you ever went swimming within fifty miles of the place. Coney Island's beach is mostly trashy, and the sand has more broken shells than anyplace I've ever seen (except Shell Beach, obviously, which has no sand, only crushed shells). There are typically people in the water, splashing around, but I would probably refrain from that. There are some City beaches that are fine and dandy for a dip (the Rockaways, Orchard Beach), but there are often advisories for either pollutants or riptides at Coney Island, so we pretty much stay out of the water.
The apparently World Famous hotdog eating contest is held annually on the 4th of July on a stage facing this view (basically) of the original Nathan's Frankfurters. The dogs aren't that bad, if you don't mind belching up the taste of nitrate-rich baloney flavor for a few hours. This year the white kid Chestnut(?) set a new record, and defended his upset victory from last year against the Japanese-dog-gobblin'-machine, Kobayashi. It's funny what appears in the papers here (and on Sportscenter).
Coney Island is also home to the Brooklyn Open on the AVP Tour, or, the pro-volleyball circuit. Corrie and I made it to the first-ever Brooklyn open, in '07, and we ended up at the marquis event, the ladies-finals. We got to see the best team ever, Misty May and Kerri Walsh, win for the 84th time in a row (I think they made it to 86 before finally losing a match). The tour was back when we went to the baseball game, as was the circus. Barnum & Bailey and the Ringling Brother's were in town as well, all visible while walking to the stadium from the beach.
Keyspan Park is named after Keyspan, the NYC gas company that has since changed its name to NationalGrid. Here's a view of the scoreboard, which has a frieze shaped like the team's namesake, the Cyclone 'coaster, while, if you look close at the right side of the picture, just above the wall, you can see the top of the real rollercoaster.
The game we went to was great, a low scoring affair, won in the bottom of the ninth with a walk-off hit that missed being a homerun by a few inches. After the game we went back to the beach, got comfortable, and watched the fireworks. After the pyrotechnic show, we got on the subway, and went home.
As unique a New York evening as there exists. That's probably the allure, the draw, of this scuzzy summer-fair, pricey beers and hotdogs, beach, baseball, the circus...the City has so much to offer and to do, but making it unique is the important part.
Just because something is a dive doesn't make it less memorable.
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