Amidst the doom and gloom in which a rainy summer amplifies the prospect of near poverty, we were handed a gem of a Sunday with 85 degree weather, so we HopStopped as far & magical $4.50 could take us and landed on the corner of Surf & Stillwell Avenue.
Home to the now burned down Totonno's Pizza and the infamous Nathan's Hotdogs soon to be leveled by overzealous developers for yet another abandoned waterfront condo. Dunno who they expect to move into there since the majority of the patrons of the neighborhood speak only some Eastern European craze or Espanol. In any case, trooping out to the end of the R Train is always a treat with it's pleasant waterfront breeze, beachside culinary craze, and the most exquisite people watching you'll ever find.
The beach was pleasantly mellow mid-morning with quiet beach goers con sus familias. The water was also suprisingly warm and welcoming after a rotisserie session in the sand. It was curious to find some corner store thugs swimming laps from the jetty to the pier still rocking their all too familiar du-rags but with Michael Phelps Ltd Ed Speedo swim goggles on top. I can just imagine the scene on the corner the previous night.
"Yo kid, it's gonna be hot as a bitch tommorrow."
"Word, B. We need to get out in the water, son."
"Yo let's get our kit tight so we can get our swim on."
"For real, they got them pool goggles in the back of Pathmark near all the beach shit."
"Oh, word? What about them pool hats they wore in the Olympics?"
"Fuck that, just break out one of your old busted du-rags. I know you got a closet full of them shits."
"Fuck you ni**a, I got kids to feed, you don't see the new Foamposites on these feet."
"Word, my bad. see you on the platform at 9am."
"Peace."
Nothing makes the Coney Experience more complete than a NYPD Yamaha Rhino weaving in and out of the beach goers with some lost 1 year olds trying to find their parents who were probably on the other side of the pier hustling 3 dollar Coronas out of a dirty Jansport. Or the Mariachi men kicking sand all over the place asking for donations after blasting out all your Mexican eatery jams. Hey, I ain't hating. Even these guys deserve a day on the beach. Just don't step on my Frogskins. Had to trade a my AM95 Neon 360s for those.
And of course we had to close out our wonderful afternoon with a toast with the Champagne of Beers, one of our favorite snacks and the always appropriate John's Deli soundtrack.
