after eight days away from the man i'm in love with i greet michael with nothing but a whole bunch of sad party and uncontrollable what-the-fuck. while he catches up on sleep post-red-eye i decide that it is in everyone's best interest for me to leave the apartment.
so i do the aimless walking and crying that i'm sure we are all familiar with when it comes to the moods.
then he calls. he finds me. we walk. i cry. we are walking hand-in-hand on a desperate yet silent search for lip balm when i look up at him and say "let's go to coney island."
"i was just about to say that."
"really? i want to go."
"when? tomorrow?"
"no. now."
so coney island it was. bumper cars and cyclone. flume. break dance. boardwalk. photobooth. pay toilets. beach. bums. hot dogs. and there is this game...called "shoot the freak" you pay. they give you a paintball rifle. some guy comes running out of his stained mattress hut, or something, and you shoot him with paintballs. although intrigued i found something fundamentally wrong about it, and as the barker continually peaked my interest i backed away at first slowly, but then we actually had to turn and run.
later patty told us that shoot the freak travels around, and would be at the 12 day our lady of mount carmel church function in williamsburg in about 3 weeks.
my thighs and back are bruised from the cyclone. i screamed and laughed so hard i gave myself a headache. our photobooth pictures are amazing.
coney island. totally corked my cry-hole.
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