Ever since I saw Annie Hall, where Woody Allen claims to have been brought up under the rollercoaster, I've wanted to visit Coney Island. That's why I put it on that bucket list.
So this weekend TLOML and I took the C and then the F out to the wilds of coastal Brooklyn. It took an awfully long time to get there. We began passing through overground stations with strange names. We were definitely not in Manhattan anymore. The train emptied.
On arrival, the first thing we saw was the legendary Nathan's hot dog place. It cheered TLOML up immediately, and the journey already seemed worthwhile.
Which is a good thing as frankly, it went downhill after that.
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting it to be Vegas - or even Brighton. But I was hoping for an out-of-season, picturesque desolation. Not just actual desolation.
Okay, it's November. But somehow I can't imagine Coney Island being any more cheerful when its packed to the gills with screaming children and red faced sunseekers.
I was a little relieved ChaChas was closed. Grandpa Chacha's home style wine is probably the last thing we needed.
There's something about the backdrop that just, well, it aint' pretty.
So this weekend TLOML and I took the C and then the F out to the wilds of coastal Brooklyn. It took an awfully long time to get there. We began passing through overground stations with strange names. We were definitely not in Manhattan anymore. The train emptied.
On arrival, the first thing we saw was the legendary Nathan's hot dog place. It cheered TLOML up immediately, and the journey already seemed worthwhile.
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't expecting it to be Vegas - or even Brighton. But I was hoping for an out-of-season, picturesque desolation. Not just actual desolation.
 |
No comments:
Post a Comment