Coney Island? Like a chili-cheese coney?

This weekend my friend Leigh (also a Shreveportian) decided it was time to get out of Manhattan, so Sunday afternoon we boarded the train to Coney Island, an area directly below Brooklyn which I came to find out is like a permanent state fair, plus a beach. What ensued was a cacophony of carnivalistic activities, but I would like to present the day in light of several lawsuits waiting to happen:

No. 1 "In advance of a cut foot:" After riding the Wheel of Wonder (also known as a ferris wheel), Leigh and I traipsed through swarms of strange characters down to the water, with sand artificially colored by assorted umbrellas. We came to learn it was also strewn with a pawn shop's assortment of litter. When I stopped just short of a shard of glass, Leigh made the accurate assumption, "This has to be the dirtiest beach I've ever seen." Luckily my feet survived, slice-free.



No. 2 "In advance of a broken arm:" Amazingly we decided to stay a few hours and observe from a plot safely-distanced from canoodling couples and an encroaching tide. When we'd had enough we entered the nearest public bathroom to wash up. Water stood at least two inches high across the entire length of the floor. My sandy flip-flops struggled to stay afloat. Ick. Could have been disastrous.

No. 3 "In advance of a racist accusation:" Immediately upon exiting said restroom, we were accosted by voices from above. Normally I would ignore any attempt to get my attention, no matter the owner of the voice. But maybe the beach was eroding our Manhattan persona because we both looked up to the balcony area above. Two small boys of some ethnicity other than our own incited us to return the dodgeball that had escaped them to the sand. Um, how were we to return it from our position with more than a ten foot height disadvantage? Somehow Leigh saved the day by heaving the ball above the banister and directly into their hands. But even as it was still in the air, I could see it ending badly: collapsed facial features, a fractured skull, or even just a bloody nose. In those two seconds the boy's life and mine (from jail) flashed before my eyes. Thankfully Leigh has good aim.

No. 4 "In advance of a broken back, or face, or window:" Once again on the train, a different little boy took to making monkey bars of the interior roof of the subway car. Need I say more? Leigh attempted to shoot him an evil glare. His parents made no note of it.

And so ended our outing, and I hurried home to rinse stubborn sand from my feet... and shoulders... and legs... and practically every other available space on my body. Literally, it's as if the individual grains thought themselves pollen spores migrating on to spread their seed, hitching a ride on my exterior. When I got out of the shower I frowned at the pool of water that had collected beneath the curtain. It was in perfect position to trip my roommate coming in from a late night out. Hmm. Lawsuit No. 5?

Disclaimer- This was actually a really fun day, despite the somewhat sub-par portrayal this provides.