Coney Island- The Summer of 2001

A sign from the Stillwell Avenue Subway Station. I have no idea if it is still there as the station was rehabbed over the winter.

The ghosts of Stillwell Station folded around me as I disembarked from the B train. Since this was my fourth visit to the island, the third having only occurred two days before, I was afraid I might get a little bored. After all, I had seemingly taken in everything Coney had to offer, so what was left. I had in tow two friends, one from Connecticut, who had never been. I had waxed poetically about this place for the last few days and shown them Ric Burns and Richard Snow’s excellent documentary, “Coney Island: a documentary film.” Had I set them up for a fall?

The street was hustle and bustle as seemingly all of New York’s various groups had come down to the city. The sheer numbers of people seemed high for me, as my previous visits had only occurred on a rainy Saturday, a winter’s Saturday and a Thursday. It was on this morning that the sea of humanity actually swelled before me. Up and down Surf Avenue I saw coolers, picnic baskets and lawn chairs stretched across many a back. It only made me wonder what it was like when the island regularly drew one out of every one hundred Americans or in 1947 when 1/5 of the city experienced Fourth of July at Coney.

“What crowds of people, light-hearted laughing people. Rich, poor, citified, country-clad – all sorts. All thrilled by the tonic of the atmosphere, yet wondering at their activity.” Anonymous, Turn of the Century

It was a little past one and hunger had dug deep in my stomach. We headed to Nathan’s where I got two famous hot dogs (each with sauerkraut & onions) and a Coke. My friend, who got oysters on the half shell and clam chowder (Manhattan style, of course), could not stop saying how good they were. I was pleased that one of Coney’s traditions agreed with her and we headed for the Cyclone.

A view of the Cyclone's intense first drop from the park's viewing tower.

Screams emanated from above and the structure rattled as the trains navigated the coaster’s second fan turn. We each bought a ticket and as I entered I could not help but smile at the irony that sits in the first turn out of the station. Here a small tree, some quaint bushes and flowers grow as all around them sits one of the most infamous terror-inducing machines on the planet. We boarded in the second-to-last seat, the lap bars clicked shut, the skid brakes were lowered and the train thundered onto the lift. The Cyclone’s cars have that wonderful flexibility about them. For seasoned riders like myself it is not a big deal, but my friends were bit taken back when they realized that the cars were bending and flexing. I had little time to reassure them as that demonic first drop wrenched the trains out from under us and the Cyclone proceeded to throw us around like rag dolls to our heart’s content. When the brakes hit I could tell they were surprised a coaster less than one hundred feet could be that vicious and powerful. Seeing as they were still speechless I suggested we do as the operator said and “Ride again, only four bucks.” The curved, white rooftop faded away once more as the train hustled up the lift.

If you want to experience a ride run like Oktoberfest look no further than the delicious Break Dance.

Astroland has POP (pay-one-price) Monday through Thursday and PAYG (pay-as-you-go) Friday through Sunday. So, even though the crowds were thick to the skin the lines were not bad at all. The Power Surge (Zamperla) was the first up and I must say that the ride is comfortable, fun and the way it runs at Astroland made me drool (but most of it flew off onto the crowd so that wasn’t an issue). The park has become known in enthusiast circles for their long and intense ride cycles. We walked down the midway and hopped on the Log Flume and the one more famous (or infamous) ride. Yes folks there are flat rides. Then, there are flat rides that “kinda” spin you. Last, but by no means least, are those flat rides that spin you in ways never thought possible at speeds unimaginable. This one gave a ride so amazing that it made me crave a cigarette after it had had its way with me. Yes, I am talking about Astroland’s Break Dance (manufactured by Huss). This ride is pure German fair: big, loud, flashy and mean. If the thumping of the music does not intimidate you the screams elicited from the ride will. I boarded with a small knot in my stomach as the only other Break Dance I had experienced was at Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom…and we know that Six Flags hardly ever feels the need to really run their flat rides as intended. After everyone had loaded the operator spun us a bit and said, “Does anyone want to get off?” One kid jokingly raised his hand and the op said menacingly, “Honey, you are going to regret fooling around.” We were off. I hardly know what to write here because were shot every way but off the platform. The operators at Astroland definitely know how to work this ride because they had no problem performing wizardry with the controls so that the turntable’s and the hub’s different speeds were so well choreographed I was whipped and dipped at velocities I did not think were possible. This scrambler-on-crack left me tired, dizzy, wobbly and begging for more. What a great ride! Astroland definitely deserves credit for running this (and other) flat rides so well- you certainly get what you pay for!

The best new style of bumper cars to be found anywhere.

Carving a path through the Surf Avenue pedestrians we responded to the automated loudspeaker that asked us to, “Bump, Bump, Bump Your Ass Off!” Although my posterior was against the idea we headed into the second-best bumper cars I have been on after Knoebels. These were fast, mean, full of bad pop songs and somehow let the evil side of all the riders out. I enjoyed putting several kids into the wall, felt bad about it, remembered that this is what bumper cars are supposed to do and then shoved their mom next to them. $1 re-rides…so of course we accepted.

THIS is how you properly run a carousel.

Full of “the spirit of Coney” it was down to my second mandatory island experience- the B&B Carousell. Neither of my partners had been on a carousel this fast or with brass rings so they were astounded that a carousel could be exciting, or, God forbid, fun! The ride still does not feel quite right riding without Mike, but is memory is still alive and well in the horses. After a quick jaunt back across Surf Avenue and down the bowery we came to the Jumbo Jet. It was here that I felt a pang of the past. The bowery was lively and crowded but it only made me ask for a chance to see what was. The spirit of Stauch’s, Henderson’s and the rest of the bowery’s former residents (mostly theatres and bars) still touched me as I tried to peer around the din of thumping bass music and bad games where the concessionaires had the spirit William H. Reynolds instead of George C. Tilyou. Shaking this off we waited for the Jumbo Jet where there was blood on the car’s floor so I asked the ops to wipe it off. He muttered something incoherently as the cigarette bounced between two weather-beaten lips and a well-oiled rag cleaned up the mess (or simply covered it up…it was dirtier after he finished). During trips on this Schwarzkopf experience I try to keep my surroundings out of mind and merely enjoy the smooth, fast and fun coaster he created.