The Day of Shoot the Freak on the Beach

Oh the joys of processed meat on the beach! After working for the morning at what is becoming our regular coffee shop, we took the subway out to Brighton Beach and Coney Island for a little break from the closed-in city. As the trains are above ground for most of the way, we were able to see actual neighborhoods with trees and yards and kids riding bikes. Some of the streets were really pretty and it was nice to see how people live in the Burbs.

The train let us off at Brighton Beach, and we immediately whipped out the camera to document the Russian and English signs. As we wandered the streets, it was like a different country. This area is now known as Little Odessa because of the large population of Russian émigrés, and it was amazing to hear and read the language everywhere. There were many old ladies with their heads wrapped in scarves and stores selling Russian CDs and t-shirts. We meandered through what appeared to be a discount store (79 cent undies for the ladies!), and it was a bit surreal to see older, roundish women rifling through piles of animal-print sweaters and spandex pants (J wanted to buy a pair for himself, but I told him it didn’t go with his image).

We left the street to walk out to the boardwalk and felt immediately at ease in the wide-open space of the beach. Despite the sandstorm caused by the high winds and undeterred by the pieces of broken glass and who knows what on the beach, we took off our shoes to enjoy the sand in our toes. J realized that he has never been swimming in the Atlantic, but a brief toe-dipping in freezing water left the joy of a full-body dip for another day. It was really nice to be on the beach and enjoy the beachy smell and the pushy seagulls.

With shoes in hand, we made our way toward Coney Island, just a stroll from Brighton Beach. As we walked, we started to notice that everyone around us was either wearing a yarmulke with the side curls or a dark skirt. We figured maybe it was a Jewish neighborhood, and slipped back into our shoes to check out the amusement parks. As we neared the rides, we realized that everyone was a Hasidic Jew, which made the strange place even more interesting. There were literally hundreds of people, dressed for Passover, riding on aging rides or playing miniature golf or riding in go karts. It was fascinating.

The next strange development was the sound of a loud speaker calling out “Shoot the Freak! Shoot the Freak!” As we neared the source, we realized that it was some poor kid’s job to stand in front of paint guns as a target. The guy with the loud speaker just collected the money and encouraged you to “Shoot the Freak! Shoot him in the head! Shoot the Freak!” I felt so bad for the poor guy, but I guess it’s all in the name of commerce.

A requisite part of any visit to Coney Island is a Coney Dog bought at Nathan’s, so we got two chili cheese dogs and split a fry. The hot dog was more than I could handle – you couldn’t quite bite through the thick skin and there was a little knob at the end – so I enjoyed the fries, which were very good. As we weren’t really interested in waiting in line for a long time to play skeeball, we decided to head home.

On the train ride back, we both fell sound asleep, but woke up just as we approached the stop that would lead us to the Magnolia Bakery. As I already know that it will take months for my system to recover from this trip and get back in shape, I figured that one more cupcake couldn’t do that much more damage. This time, there was no line and J was able to experience the magic of picking out a freshly-made cupcake, then enjoying it in the park across the street. So many people do this that the park’s trash cans are overflowing with boxes and tissue paper from the bakery. Oh I will miss these when we’re gone…

The sugar propelled us home, and we collapsed into a nap (we didn’t go to bed until 3:30 or so the night before). J woke in a panic at around 8 because he was worried we would miss out on something, only to discover that there wasn’t much going on. We decided to head to another film at the festival – hoping to get into a French comedy called Aaltara about two guys who get in an accident and end up in wheelchairs. Sounds funny, eh? It turned out to be one of the most hilarious movies that I’ve ever seen. I should have known because as we walked in this wild haired man was shaking our hands and telling us in a thick French accent “You have made the right choice. Good choice. Very good choice.” He turned out to be the director as well as one of the stars, and after the movie, his Q&A session was as comedic as the movie had been. He struck me as a crazy drunk who is incredibly smart and talented. I’m not a huge fan of buying movies, but I’m going to hunt down a copy of this movie to own because it is so funny.

With throbbing cheeks, we headed home, stopping on our block to buy a $10 six pack. After a few beers and a few episodes of Cribs, we were nodding off and decided to officially call it a very good day.