Don't Postpone Joy
The ferry ride into Manhattan was definitely the way to go. July is a sticky month in the city and we didn't want to spend more time on the train than we had to. Jeremiah and I climbed the stairs to sit on the top floor of the boat...the smell of exhaust isn't quite so apparent up there and you get the full benefits of the skyline view along with the breeze coming off of the Hudson. Jer and I wanted to make a night of it. We opted for a place in mid-town called the Chelsea Star Motel. It was one of those interesting places where the rooms have themes and the walls in the common areas are high gloss, yellow, and have stenciled stars painted all over them. It was a tacky and wonderful place to stay as long as you didn't think about it too much.
Something strange happens when you step off the subway and find yourself in the mouth of Brooklyn's playground. It isn't exactly nostalgia...it is darker than that. It is more of a macabre time warp, a place where you suddenly believe that a quarter will buy you a view into your future and placing your hand on a red handle will tell you how wonderful a lover you are. It is a place where you can still do things that almost don't seem right to do...like pay to see a freak show of natures misfits who found ways to capitalize on human curiosity...you can aim a paintball gun at a live target and "shoot the freak". You can still get lost in mirrored funhouses and ride on sad painted ponies. The air smells like cotton candy and popcorn mixed with the salted lift from the Atlantic waves. Coney Island is surreal and fascinating and a thriving reminder of a lost world.
It wasn't overly crowded for a Saturday in July. We played ski ball and wasted money trying to conquer cheap trinkets against a coveting crane. We indulged in a rickety ride on the historic Cyclone roller coaster and took a spin on the Wonder Wheel where a bored attendant pulled the crank and seemed to forget us...Not a huge fan of Ferris Wheels in the first place this kinda felt like a scene out of a horror film...or maybe Annie Hall...or both. .........................................................................................
Eldourado Arcade...somehow in all the weird glass cases that lined against the walls, filled with dancing puppets, a Miss Coney Island mannequin and odd little songs coming out of quarter fed crackling speakers, a simple sentence intoxicates me..."Don't Postpone Joy". It is July, I am with Jeremiah, and I am in the middle of a lovely haunting...I am consumed, melencholy, and intrigued. I swallow my own voice because I don't know what to say. I give in and smile because joy was definitely NOT something I could postpone, not in that moment, not in that disturbing, beautiful, dark carnival moment. 
