Coney Island in the fall is far different from its summer self.
At least how I imagine it to be; I’ve never been at its peak. The boardwalk was empty. A man growled at me for taking pictures that weren’t even of him. A lone musician strummed his guitar, singing to no one. A lady stared at a bird that stared at her back.
Yet, it was exactly what I needed.
Tired from jumping for pictures, we headed back to the city.
That weekend, for me at least, Baltimore beckoned.
I’d dreamed about my vacation for months, hoping to jet off somewhere overseas or embark on a grand road trip. But as my vacation approached, it became obvious I hadn’t put enough time in planning a trip or even budgeting for it. My grand adventures, I decided, would be in the city.
Flights to foreign lands were replaced with all too familiar subway rides, and my hikes consisted of getting lost in the East or West Village. The farthest I ventured was to Baltimore, with a day trip to Coney Island. Other items on my agenda? Sleep. Lots of it. Clean my room. Sign up for a library card.
Funny how mundane tasks suddenly become extraordinary when you lose all sense of routine. It was a lesson in seeking something new in the familiar, and that sometimes it doesn’t take a plane ticket to find adventure.
Meet Paul and Alex. I met these two in college, and they’re among the most energetic, fun and talented guys I know. Paul loves wearing shirts with tiny thunderbolts on them. And Alex enjoys Paul.
Alex is a stuntman/actor/super warrior extraordinaire.
When he’s not modeling Poland Spring bottles, Paul lives and works in New York as an animator/designer.
Together, they are… well, this is pretty much what happens.
They’re also incredible jumpers.
They talk with their hands.
And are mighty photogenic.
See ya later, friends.
