Coney Island & Brighton Beach

Until I visited last weekend, my vision of Coney Island was stuck in the turn of the century -- the previous century -- when photographs were in black and white, women wore bathing suits that went down to the knee, and the entire beach was crammed with families wearing swim caps, sitting under umbrellas.

Present day Coney Island lacks the nostalgic charm of history books, but I can't sneer at a respectable beach that's an easy hour by train from Manhattan. Growing up near Santa Monica's beaches in California, I was amazed the first time I visited Dewey beach in Delaware -- I'd just driven several hours from Washington, D.C., for a puny sliver of sand. Coney Island, on the other hand, had a wide expanse of sand, and it wasn't too crowded. Although the water was choppy, it was nice to walk in the sand and get my feet wet. They even had an amateur sand castle competition taking place Saturday afternoon.

At least one of the rides epitomized my romanticized vision of Coney Island: the rickety-looking wooden Cyclone roller coaster, built in 1927. It's actually a National Historic Landmark, and though I didn't ride it, it reminded me of Colossus roller coaster at Southern California's Six Flags Magic Mountain. It lacks the crazy loops and twists and turns of the newer roller coasters, but is perfect for giving your stomach that unique weightless feeling.

We lunched at Totonno's, a pizzeria a few blocks inland with fabulous pizza and rather surly service. The pies have a thin, but not soggy, crust, just the right amount of cheese, and they use fresh mushrooms. They were evidently annoyed that we didn't order drinks, though -- when my dining companion (politely) asked for a refill of tap water, the waitress pointed at the sink next to the bathroom and said, "I got the first round. You can get the second."

From Coney Island, it's an easy walk to Brighton Beach, a major Russian enclave. Instead of row after row of fried clams, burgers and soft serve, Brighton Beach's boardwalk has Tatiana Cafe and Tatiana Restaurant, where you can dine on smoked fish, caviar and chicken Kiev. The beach there is less crowded and impressively free of trash. Just a block inland on Brighton Ave. there's an impressive array of Russian grocery stores and shops. Even the Starbucks had items listed in Cyrillic. All the stores were selling sour cherries, so I tried some of those, sadly passing up the individual Fage yogurt containers (3 for $1, with looming expiration dates) due to lack of refrigeration in my near future. I liked the sour cherries well enough, and can see them going really well as a sauce with duck (I had them raw).

Our day ended with a quick stop at Nathan's so my friend could try one of their famed hot dogs. While calorie counts on fast food menus usually don't make much of an impression on me, the fried fish combos exceeding 2,000 calories were somewhat alarming. Good thing Michelle Obama didn't eat here, since she already got quite a bit of grief for her 1,700 calorie Shake Shack meal.

Nathan's (the original location founded in 1916)

Ground Zero After Obama's Speech

On Sept. 11 I was part of the mass migration that headed north, away from the collapsed towers -- to the Upper East Side, across the park, then to my sister's friend's apartment at 72nd St. and Amsterdam. A senior in college, I was in the city by fluke, helping out on primary day in lower Manhattan.

Late Sunday – just after I moved to New York – I found myself just three blocks away from that 72nd St. apartment listening to President Obama’s speech announcing that the U.S. had killed Osama bin Laden. After it was over I read tweets about a gathering at Ground Zero and felt compelled to join, so I hopped on the 1 train for the reverse journey. Exiting at Chambers Street station, I found myself in the middle of a group of college-age students chanting "USA, USA." We soon merged with others streaming in the same direction, south toward Ground Zero, many as young as I was nearly a decade ago.

"I've never felt so alive," I heard one man say.

"Me too," agreed his female friend.

Much like the victims of the Sept. 11 attacks, those gathered were a diverse group. I heard a few men speaking Arabic, a woman speaking rapid-fire French, and another woman introduce herself as a reporter from Spain.

The crowd was joyous, alternating chants of “USA, USA,” “NYC, NYC,” and the more profane “[Eff] Osama.” One of the chants relied on wordplay, taking note of the similarities behind the terrorist and the president who ordered his execution. “Obama got Osama! Obama got Osama!” Another invoked the chant that carried Obama to the White House, “Yes we can!” – a subtle reminder that the elimination of America’s most hated terrorist leader could have electoral ramifications next year, even as many pointed out that the 2012 elections will likely hinge on the economy or some other issue we can’t foresee.

People waving flags drew much of the attention, as did a sign reading “Obama 1, Osama 0.” Several climbed street sign posts to wave flags, and to lead the crowd in singing the "Star Spangled Banner" and "God Bless America." Some engaged in more quiet contemplation, holding candles, while the smell of pot wafted around despite the heavy police presence.

One man quoted Bill Pullman’s character, President Whitmore, from the 1996 movie "Independence Day": “We will not go quietly into the night! We will not vanish without a fight! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day.”

The analogy seemed a bit incongruous – in "Independence Day," the world is being attacked by aliens and is on the brink of utter destruction. The U.S. has been fighting terrorism with renewed focus ever since Sept. 11, but in a sign of how much the country has moved on, the media and public were initially stumped as to the reason for Obama’s late-night press conference. Unlike the tense mood after Sept. 11, a terrorist threat on U.S. soil didn’t seem particularly imminent, and the country lately has been consumed with talk of high gas prices, long form birth certificates and the Royal Wedding. The peaceful Arab revolutions in which the United States has taken a backseat have mostly disproved that Islamic terrorism is on the rise.

Shortly after 1 a.m., the crowd parted for a small procession helmed by a bagpiper. One member held up a FDNY T-shirt. A man in the back said he was a firefighter who spontaneously decided to come to the site. “I figured I wouldn’t be alone if I came down here.”

Another firefighter was carrying a flag enscribed “Flag of Heroes” with the names of emergency services personnel who died in the attacks. A photographer asked him to wave it. “Don’t smile,” she instructed.

Not everyone appreciated the celebratory mood – the singing, the beer drinking, the taunting cries of “nah nah nah nah, hey hey hey, goodbye.” I spoke with Kevin, who was in 8th grade on Sept. 11. He recalled how the principal came on the loudspeaker and instructed those students whose parents worked at the World Trade Center to leave the classroom. Half the class left the room, he recalled.

“Three thousand people died, like, 10 feet away from us,” Kevin added, as we stood at the intersection of Vesey St. and Trinity Place, the corner of the World Trade Center site. “This is holy ground. This should be a time to remember who we lost. It shouldn’t be a time to celebrate.”

That feeling of discordance was echoed in my Facebook feed and among friends. “Not 100% comfortable with celebrations, but understand them. 10yrs of built up emotion,” posted one friend who was at the White House. Another friend in Los Angeles noted that her boyfriend thought the celebrations looked like a tailgating party.

I did not feel joyous last night when I learned the news. I felt stunned, then relieved, even as I knew that bin Laden’s death could lead to retaliatory attacks, and that by no means did it portend a quick end to the war in Afghanistan.

I did not know anyone killed in the Sept. 11 attacks, but being here that day has always made me feel a particular attachment with New York City, even though the longest I have lived here previously was for 10 weeks in the summer of 2001. That’s not to say people around the country weren’t equally horrified by the attacks, or that I can articulate anything insightful about them or the killing of bin Laden.

The writing I most often turn to when it comes to Sept. 11 is a poem written by Toni Morrison shortly after the terrorist attacks. It seems as apt today as it did then. Here’s an excerpt that says what I feel in words I could never myself assemble so eloquently:

To speak to you, the dead of September 11, I must not claim
false intimacy or summon an overheated heart glazed
just in time for a camera. I must be steady and I must be clear,
knowing all the time that I have nothing to say -- no words
stronger than the steel that pressed you into itself; no scripture
older or more elegant than the ancient atoms you
have become.

Here are some pictures from Ground Zero about 1 a.m.:


Their chants included, "God Bless America. We win."


The procession of firefighters


A couple of people brought candles


Firefighter holding a "flag of heroes" naming the emergency responders who died in the attacks


This emergency responder was one of hundreds recording the event by camera, smart phone and flip cam