Coney Island, The Last Stop

Coney theIsland last stop

“THEY CALL IT LAST STOP, Because you end up here when you ain’t got nowhere else to go,” a hooded man on the 15th Street pier mumbled. It was a “don’t go there,” and a “definitely don’t go over

there” kind of situation as he visually drew a map of the nearby streets.

Located in what has been deemed New York’s roughest ghetto, an amusement park stands. Desolate and rather gloomy, Luna Park serves as the last beacon of light to illuminate the rich history of what was once a lively vacation area.

Coney Island is a tough little neighborhood on the East End of Brooklyn, who’s dark reputation never fully recovered after the reign of corrupt politician, John McKane, in the 1870s. An area popularly known as a hub for gambling, prostitution and crime, Sea Lion Park was opened in 1895 to introduce a lighthearted element of entertainment to the area.

The amusement parks were burnt down on several occasions, land bought out by the Trump Family in 1965, and businesses swept under the sea by Superstorm Sandy.

A strong recovery effort was not evident.

Closed for the Fall, the sideshow is noted by local residents as the most lively aspect of the dreary amusement parks. In the summer, freaks and curious spectators gather daily in the basement of the Coney Island museum, a converted home haunted by the town’s glorious past.

When it gets cold, the lights in Coney Island go dim. Trash rolled about the beaches, visitors bundled up, and stale, salty air breathed a whisper of life into the dusty little corner of New York.

The “Bird Man,� as he is coined on various social media sites, visits the beach at Coney Island daily to feed the seagulls scraps from the nearby boardwalk. He claimed to have been appointed by the state for feedings.

Author’s Note

Brianna Spause There is just something about New York.

The subject of food poisoning, theft and broken plans, I thought i had figured it out. And I couldn’t stand one more minute.

From the safety of a comfy couch back home, Mom’s vegetable soup in hand, I was caught in a funny shade of gray. Somewhere between defeated and exhausted, it was clear I had it all wrong.

It’s sadistic, really. New York picks you up and spits you out, and chuckles as you fall head over heels in love.

Š Brianna Spause, 2014