June 21st; Coney Island today. We are meeting up with Natasha, Gabriel and Andy from the party last night.
We were running a bit late getting ready and the boys were nowhere near the land of the living in any case, so I pulled what shreds were left of me together to go with Kate. We caught a couple of subways to meet Natasha near Union Square. That’s somewhere in the Lower West or East Side. I can’t remember. Anyway, she had a huge coffee and was already hyped up. I was wearing the sheepish smile of someone who had only thrown up in front of a complete stranger the night before.
We headed to the square and started looking around the markets they had set up. It was half farmer’s market, quarter artist market, quarter junk market. Noone bought anything. We ran into Gabriel and Andy. Andy wanted food so we went to the McDonald’s just across the road. I started humming the Jaws music to Kate. You see, we made a deal that we would not go to McDonald’s once during the trip. Luckily noone else wanted anything so we didn’t have to offend anyone. We got on the Subway. It’s a long trip. Probably just under an hour all up. The Subway crosses the Brooklyn bridge and stays above ground from then, which is a nice change from black walls and flashing lights
Coney Island is interesting. I still can’t figure out if it’s an actual island. I heard that it sort of is, but that was all the explanation we got. It is exactly what I imagine the Royal Adelaide Show would turn into if you let it run all the year round – and you had the population to support it. Sun bleached and worn, dirty and littered. The permanent home of Carnies and the few sun-lovers of New York who don’t bathe in the parks. The boardwalk and cyclone roller coaster are probably the biggest landmarks of the place. The boardwalk is basically a big wooden, well, boardwalk, that stretches from one end of the beach to the other – and it’s a very long beach. Nothing special, and I wouldn’t go swimming there. I could name any three beaches in South Australia and they’d be nicer. Still, it was nice to walk along; in jeans, as it were. Not the best idea I’ve had lately. We’d met up with Natalie, a friend of Nat and Gabs’, after standing on a street corner for five minutes. I didn’t entirely know why we were on that corner until she arrived.
The Mermaid Parade was on today. We missed the actual event but the crowds were still there and a fair few people in shiny clothes. My immediate thought was that a Mermaid Parade would go nowhere, what with Mermaids being both fictional characters and not receiving many points in the column marked ‘bipedal’. I would go so far as to say they were last in line when legs were being handed out.
I thought the Mermaid Parade was a sort of Gay Pride march, but it turns out that is coming in a week or two (if I remember) and this is for anyone who has ever felt like dressing themselves up as a fish. Or maybe got halfway to taking part in the Fish Parade but gave up. We got some photos with Neptune like characters and headed off the walk. We needed lunch. Nathan’s Famous Hotdogs resides just off the boardwalk, where they hold the world eating competition each year. In 1989 or whenever it started the record was eighteen hotdogs. 2007 saw sixty six hotdogs being eaten. The leaderboard showed some people holding the title for five years in a row; a feat which was surely ended in a Mr. Creosote like finale.
The lines were too long in any case, so we ended up at Big Al’s hotdogs. We stood in line for a long time, and our food was almost certainly not on the FDA approved list. Come to think of it, neither were the dollar bills the lady gave me as change. They had clearly ran out so she gave me a crooked smile, changed to a blank face, sat down, grimaced, blank face, pulled out her purse, got some dollar notes, grimaced as she stood up, looked blankly ahead. She had seemingly forgotten I was standing there. I pushed my money out, she smiled at me again, looked straight ahead again, turned around, smiled and asked for my order again. She took my money, I got my dollars. It was all quite odd.
I sat down on the curb. I took a bite of my double cheeseburger. The others came out. We changed to the other side of the street, which was strewn with rubbish and turned over barricades from the parade. The second I stood up that one bite of cheeseburger sank like a block of lead. It wasn’t even the processed-meat-in-your-arteries feeling that comes from a usual fast food place. It was worse. I sat down and continued eating. Time for the fairground.
It’s a typical kind of fairground, it just feels more worn out. There are small rides, the most impressive of which is the Ring of Fire, basically a rollercoaster carriage in a big loop which swings around. There are sideshows which noone wants to go to, weirdos lounging in dark corners, drinks for sale, overpriced souvenirs. The people who work there seem to have left a groove. A groove somewhere in the 1980s judging by the haircuts, or perhaps the 1400s judging by the dental care. We continued on to the cyclone. It’s like the Mad Mouse, but much bigger and scarier. When I saw it’s like the Mad Mouse I mean it should have been shut down the day after it was buillt, the tracks are rotting wood, the carts wobble and de-rail slightly. The usual fair.
Kate and Gabriel got in line. I followed them. I realised it was the line. I asked how many stories tall it got. Gabs said two. I left the line. My new rule is this; anything which may cause me to throw up must be above six stories tall or it doesn’t get my time of day. I’ve got to challenge myself, I feel. Nat, Nat and I went and sat on the beach for a while. I do not know where Andy went. We went to Natalie’s apartment. It seems to be part of a hospital or what once a hospital. Kate and I had no idea why were in this sterile, medicine-smelling building. It was a nice apartment, but half her stuff was gone since her roommate was moving out.
We sat around, they were talking about going out, Kate had a fake ID that Hailey had given her and I was automatically pulled into the mix. As they set to finding a club for under twenty-ones, I thought to myself, ‘Do I really want to go out?’ No, I don’t. Hell, I don’t like going out that much at the best of times. This was not the best of times. I was recovering from my antics the night before, I was lacking on sleep, I was wanting to do more journals, I knew I was a bit of a burden on the others with my young age. I said, ‘I’ll just head home. You guys go out.’ I wanted Kate to stay with them but she thought it better to go another night when they had a bit of a plan or something along those lines. We went home. Another long subway ride.
We got back, I grabbed some food for myself and salad for Kate (notice I don’t put them together) and sat around eating. I sat out on the Fire Escape writing under the pale moon again. I’m starting to feel like a straighter, saner version of Tennessee Williams. Bed.
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