Coney Island and the New York We Left Behind
A new essay on an old roller coaster
Forgive this week’s spamming but I’m thrilled to tell you that I just published an essay over at
called ‘Coney Island and the New York We Left Behind.’I've been a big fan of
's for a long, long time, so you can imagine my thrill when she agreed to publish an essay of mine about the uneasy relationship I have with no longer living in New York City. Read on at the link in the comments. And thanks to Emily for riding the roller coaster with me.The photo has hung on every refrigerator we’ve shared as a couple. Eight-by-ten and glossy, its white paper frame grows more yellow with each passing year.
Her hands are white-knuckled around the safety bar, her upper body almost doubled over as if that might provide some protection, should the Cyclone’s old white wood finally snap after nearly a century of fun. Her eyes are closed tight, teeth clenched shut, waiting for the first drop to rise in her lower stomach. She does not like this.
I am nearly twice her size, with a smile as wide as the Atlantic, stretching out behind us. The rush of wind as the creaky coaster’s ancient first car crests the hill and plunges down that famous first drop, my short hair blown back over my head. I love this.
Coney Island is the site of many moments in the story of our relationship. Me meeting her at the finish of many a Brooklyn Half Marathon, with hands full of Nathan’s hot dogs and bottles of water. Her indulging my insatiable appetite for the smell of sea air and fresh clams on the half shell. Us marking every Valentine’s Day with a pizza pilgrimage, starting at Lombardi’s, where Spring Street meets the Bowery, weaving our way to Spumoni Gardens, and finally ending at Totonno’s, as the frigid February winds roar down Neptune Avenue.
But in that moment—the one captured by the Cyclone’s automatic camera that clicks just as the first car passes over the crest of that giant first hill; that has snapped pictures of millions of couples old and new, scared women and men, and boyfriends and girlfriends who pretended they weren’t—in that moment, she and I were almost brand new.
This is so so so so so good 😊