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Published: June 20th 2010
The beach at Coney Island
With the 'Wonder Wheel' featuring prominently in the background. It's a strange peculiarity of east-coasters to refer to 'summer' as a verb, whether it is to "summer in Martha's Vineyard" or "going to summer upstate." Being the impoverished graduate students that we are, my roommate and I decided to "summer at Coney Island" the last weekend before our classes were to start. This involved a ridiculously long ride on the subway, stopping every two blocks as we made our way down to the shores of the Atlantic. Apparently, two hours on the F train gets to where the N train will take you in 45 minutes, but we didn't know this. So we sat, and waited. And waited and waited, stalled somewhere in Brooklyn wondering what possessed us to wake up so gosh-darn early in the first place as we glanced around the empty subway car, debating whether to get off the next time the doors opened and figure out an alternative route.
The guide books describe this place as an 'anything goes Carnival district' abutting the nearby Russian neighborhood of Brighton Beach. I was under the impression it would be a bit like traveling back to the early 20th century where coiffed and well-mannered citizens could bemuse themselves
with the curious vaudevillian wonders of side-shows before partaking in strictly ordained pattern of fun and frivolity. To a time when paying good money to find merriment in shooting of a half-naked man with a paint ball gun fell under any category
other than absolutely abhorrent, with or without a giant "Shoot the Freak" banner spelled out in cheap metallic letters hanging above the entry-way. The sheer absurdity and possibility of these displays is what draws in the curious mind, but it's a feeling of shame and embarrassment at the entire spectacle that keeps me far enough away to only catch the briefest glimpse of the action (because it very much is that - a
spectacle in full sense of the word). In fact a good many relics from that by-gone era that do still exist, parked along the jetty, are slowly giving way to enterprising developers and residential condos, although one genuine freak show complete with tattooed-ladies and sword swallowers still remains though in what form I cannot begin to imagine. Had it not started so late in the afternoon we might have gone for the novelty of attending; as for the sights within, I'm fairly positive if I
Game On
I was never good at these games of chance, but this man was focusing on winning while his whole family cheered him on. want to see a tattooed lady I'll just keep my eyes open walking as I go about my day-to-day business. Guess the shock value has worn off a little with time. Apparently I'm not the only one who feels the incompatible tension between certain aspects of nostalgia and modern civility as it seems largely deserted.
For all intents and purposes the area now functions more as a beach than anything else, and had I not known better my vision of the place would be one mainly of sand and appropriately fried fair foods. Had we thought to bring appropriate beach accessories we could have frolicked in the sand and surf along the dozens of others laid out under their brightly colored beach umbrellas on an equally bright beach-towel but alas, having been privy to the knowledge that Coney Island remains fixed in the memories of all those who visited as an amusement park we found ourselves attempting to relive the historic hay-day of this amusement park despite the rather clear impression we were receiving from the dated facade that it might be better just to let the past be past and re-envision this area as vacation area along the
Don't Piss Here
Who doesn't appreciate helpful signage? That it needs to be stated so explicitly, however, certainly makes me worry just a bit... ranks of Myrtle Beach or Santa Monica. We allow our bones and joints to be jostled about violently in the few 'original' rides remaining so that now if any more of the attractions are sold and demolished we can say affirmatively "Ah yes, I remember riding the Cyclone and the Wonder Wheel", fully aware that what we experienced could be nothing like what it used to be. I mean, yes, the first gave me bruises up and down my forearms and nearly rattled my brain out of my skull while the later provided a terrifying twist to a Ferris-wheel, both of which will cause me to remember it for some time but out of pain and fear, not wistful remembrance. Oy!
But one landmark location had as much merit today as yesterday, so having worked up a hunger from all that sitting, when we tracked down that famous regional specialty - the coney-dog - it happily did not disappoint. Apparently, the term is a bit of a misnomer, as the toppings combo that it refers to (all-meat chili sauce, fresh chopped onions and mustard) actually hails from Michigan, which isn’t to say that there isn’t a famous frank sold
Wonder Wheel and Carnival Rides
The 'amusement' part of Coney Island here, because there is, it’s just not what I expected. Either way, when I walked up to the counter along Surf Ave at Nathan’s Famous Frankfurters, a Coney Island institution since 1916, I was temporarily confused as to what constituted the “classic” so I ended up ordering two, but turns out the fuss is actually over the hot-dog itself, without no regard to the toppings anyhow, although I'd never before thought of putting sauerkraut and grilled onions on a hot-dog.
So in essence, we spent half a day traveling to the Atlantic and back for a snack and some photos (which aren't half bad if I do say so myself), emptying our wallets a bit in the process. It certainly gave us a lot to think about regarding our perceptions of place, authenticity and travel for the ride back as the last rays summer sun slowly set behind us, and our minds slowly gear up for the months of academia ahead.
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Christina Baita
non-member comment
Looks Cool
They looks really neat! Would you suggest a special trip from Ohio with a 7 year old just to go here?Any idea of how long it takes from LGA? Thanks! Christina/willflyforfoodblog.com