Coney Island
President's Day Weekend, 2003
 

Start and stop.  Start and stop.  With the express trains not running today the journey from Grand Central took forever.  My two traveling companions, who both lived in Queens at the time, had a bit of a glazed look on their faces.  Living in the city they rode the subway all the time and I could tell they were not enjoying the trip through Brooklyn as much as I was.  

 

The parachute jump looked like an erector set as it was taken apart for refurbishment over the winter of 2003.

When we finally stepped out onto the platform at Stillwell Avenue a stiff breeze blasted me in the face and Eileen commented how cold it was.  So, with friends in tow I headed to Nathan’s for lunch.  Having skipped breakfast for some unknown reason that morning we were starving.  I guess this is why the large soda, clam chowder, hot dog and fries all seemed quite appetizing at the time.  Nathan’s was its usual self.  The grilling onions and hot dogs had a smell so strong that it hung just outside the building and, had there been hoards of people outside, they surely would have been enticed to enter.  After enjoying the snap of the crisp hot dog skin and eating until the trays were empty we stepped out onto the cold, snowy block of Surf Avenue.    

 

This isn't quite the Steeplechase Park I had imagined after seeing the postcards.

I backtracked and stared at a very unusual sight- the stump of the Parachute Jump.  It was being re-habbed, but it still felt out of place to see the “Eiffel tower of Brooklyn” in pieces amongst paint and freshly fallen snow.  I only hope this antique can run again, but like most bits of Steeplechase that seems too much to ask.  After snapping some photos we walked back towards the B&B Carousell.  The B&B was sadly still shuttered so we trudged up to the Cyclone. 

 

The Cyclone hibernated under the lead sky.

There it sat- cold and damp.  The ride seemed more like a hibernating monster than anything else.  The red lettering was topped off with snow so that the sun reflected off the C-Y-C-L-O-N-E.  It appeared that the lights were on and the ride was ready to run.  The wind blustered again and I snapped out of my delusions, remembering that I was at the tip of Brooklyn on a cold and snowy February weekend.  Sighing, I trudged up West 10th to peer over the fences at the rides resting quietly in Astroland.  Everything was put away for the winter and the rides seemed more mechanical because they were resting and rusting instead of making people happy. 

 

Deno's Wonder Wheel Park looked so strangely quiet and devoid of any life on this cold winter's day.

 

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Amusement Park History, Copyright 2004.