It’s almost hard to believe it’s taken me three years to get to Coney Island. My friends in the City go there at least three or four times a year. A friend of mine that came to visit even went. My mom expressed bewilderment a year ago when she found out I still hadn’t been. And, half my job involves homes the neighborhood.
It took three years, but I finally took the plunge, hopped on the F train and rode it to the end of the line. And guess what, it’s totally, completely, horrifically kitschy. It’s mostly about the spectacle of it all. There’s the amusement park with the retro roller coasters and carnival games. Fake palm trees on the beach. Nathan’s where the grotesque hot dog eating contest happens every Fourth of July. The Mermaid Parade. Spectacle and kitsch.
But it certainly brings people out, because even on the rainy day the boardwalk was teeming with people and the beach was dotted with beach goers.
I’m not saying Coney Island doesn’t have some sort of magical appeal. I’m sure it does. For some people. But, it just wasn’t my cup of tea. At least now I can say that for certain.