Coney Island

On Thursday, we caught the subway down to Coney Island, that once-magnificent theme park in the farthest reaches of Brooklyn. As you can see from the hustle and bustle of the subway car, a lot of people had the same idea as us.

When we got off the train at Stillwell Ave, a family of Orthodox Jews followed us out. Then, as we neared the entrance to the park, we saw another family of Orthodox Jews walking out, presumably on their way home.

Now, New Yorkers are unlikely to find what I'm about to recount all that interesting, but, seeing as we're not New Yorkers, here goes anyway. When we got into inside the theme park, for as far as the eye could see: Orthodox Jews. When we made our way to the boardwalk, for as far as the eye could see: Orthodox Jews. When we got to the beach, for as far as the eye could see: Hare Krishnas - don't be stupid or I'll kick you! Orthodox Jews!

Either there was something we didn't know (highly unlikely), or we were bearing witness to one of the greatest coincidences in the history of mankind ("You brought your family to Coney Island? So did I!" "And so did I!" "And so did I!" Forever and ever, this conversation would play out for as far as the eye could see).

(This guy did a much more artist job of capturing what we saw.)

As it turned out, there was something we didn't know: Passover. Apparently, there must be some grand tradition of bringing the family to Coney Island during Passover. For the life of me, I haven't been able to find out why, but I would really like to if anyone else has a clue.

Here's a picture of me and Dan enjoying a couple of cones on Coney Island beach.