This weekend, my best friend and I took a day trip to Coney Island. For those who don't know, Coney Island is this beach in Brooklyn that in the early 1900's consisted of beach resorts that were stomping grounds for the rich and famous, an amusement park that was home to the first carousel on earth and America's oldest still-standing roller coaster, and the world-famous Nathan's Hot Dog Stand. It has since become the most ghetto place I would step foot in without bulletproof vest (except for the time I fell asleep on the 2/3 and ended up on 135th street, and the time I thought it would be fun to day drink and go to the Bronx Zoo).
When you live in New York and want to go to the beach without turning it into a weekend extravaganza, you are very limited in options--you can either take the LIRR to Long Beach and pay for a day pass, or you can hop on the B,Q, D or F and venture to Coney Island (fo freeeee), where you might either be intimidated and grossed out or have the best day ever. If you are at all awesome, it will probably be the latter. Coney Island is fascinating in that it combines such a plethora of cultures, from a nice Latin American man we overheard telling his girlfriend that he was going to "leave a cockprint on her forehead," to octogenarian Russian couples who will push you out of the way to get prime real estate for their towels on the beachfront, to the group of Italian boys we met, who were employed as electricians and spent 45 minutes explaining the meaning of their tattoos to us, explaining to us that they couldn't swim because "muscle doesn't float" and trying to engage us in games of truth or dare where we would end up kissing them. In addition to a cast of beach-goers that if written into a movie would certainly win either an Oscar or a Razzie, the beach itself is actually pretty nice if you don't mind the occasional broken beer bottle, the water is warm and calm, and shit, we live in the greatest city on Earth, we can't expect to have EVERYTHING.
Rachel and I bought large Coronas from men selling them out of plastic bags on the beach front, gorged ourselves on delicious Russian pastries, corn on the cob and soft ice cream, and wandered through Astroland buzzed, sunburnt, and happy.
Other weekend highlights included: an Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations marathon which culminated with a 20minute interview and cooking session with Ferran Adria of El Bulli (if you are not familiar with El Bulli, I will leave you to read this and know that I will gladly give you my first born child, or my second one if you'd prefer a middle-child-syndrome kid (more complacent), to be taken there), the best thin-crust pizza and lobster salad I have ever consumed at Vento on Friday afternoon, an awesome roof party and open bar celebration on Friday night, a day drinking marathon overlooking Central Park Saturday, and a fabulous Sunday evening which consisted of applying aloe vera and concealer to my sunglasses sunburn and being blown away by this week's True Blood, pleasantly surprised by the second episode of Hung, and extremely amused by the premiere of Entourage.
If anyone could recommend some hobbies that don't consist of eating, drinking, and watching TV, throw them my way.
UPDATE: OMG, it's National French Fries Day! If you are in the East Village, please do yourself a favor and go to try the best French fries in the city. I myself will not be attending Pomme Frites due to an embarrassingly-large-almost-full cone consumed there Friday night, but I will for sure make a pits top at what is apparently the second best French fry joint in NYC, conveniently located 4 blocks from my office: Pasti's.
UPDATE Part 2: Seriously...any new hobbies...anyone?
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