A Concussion and Dislocated Shoulder, a Typical Day in Coney Island

     Coney Island is by far my favorite place in the entire world. A lot of people think weirdos and degenerates when they think of Coney Island, but take a minute to talk to some of these characters and you might change your mind. Amazing lighting and some of the most New York faces in New York is a feast for my camera. Some of the best photographs I have ever taken were taken here. And then there are the hot dogs and of course the scariest roller coaster hands down, the infamous Cyclone. Fun for the whole family! Riding the cyclone and enduring the week long agony afterward has become an annual birthday tradition. 

     When we arrived, it was as if every New Yorker decided to join us. Parking was dire. We almost gave up, but I spotted a middle aged sun bather with keys in her hand and I jumped out of the car and asked whether she'd be leaving a spot. What came out of her mouth was the most cherished Brooklyn accent I have heard in years. (I spend too much time in Williamsburg!) So I escorted this lovely tanned woman to her car, thinking after she pulled out I would stand in the spot and fend off other parkers. This was a parking war, afterall. 

    "No, I'll wait with ya," she told me, "I'm not goin' anywhere." Even better, more time to enjoy that accent. But when we got to her car a giant tour bus driven by a hasidic driver was turning the corner and nearly hit her car. We ran over screaming. I would protect this lady's car if it was the last thing I did! 

    "Your gonna hit my car!" she said.  He really had no spatial reasoning and yelled at us that he fit, continuing to move closer to denting her pristinely white automobile. So we looked at each other and started banging on the side of the bus. I think maybe a little Queens accent popped out of me, "Ya gonna hit it!" A few other locals got involved, he finally gave up, then I helped guide the giant bus in reverse, giving my lady room to pull out of her spot. "Go," I told her.

    She looked back concerned and not wanting to leave, "You sure?" I think she would have gladly blocked traffic until Mike came, but just in the nick of time he arrived and we got the sweetest parking spot in Coney Island. Such a New York moment.

    So it was Cyclone time and we brought a few Cyclone virgins, who I enticed to come with, "$6 for the ride of your life!" And its always fun to scare newbies and warn of the inevitable whiplash. But Phil took it to a whole other level by searching for how many people died on the Cyclone. I didn't want to find out! 

   When we got there it was $8, but still so worth it. If you haven't gone for a ride on the Cyclone, go at least once before you die, and if it kills you what a great way to go out. The reason why its the scariest roller coaster ever is because you feel like you might go flying out of it. These new roller coasters have you all strapped in. Not the cyclone, one measly lap bar then over that first drop and its questionable whether you won't go flying into the ocean. And its so fast and throws you around like a pin ball. If you can survive the initial drop, which is the craziest feeling ever because, you just have to let go because you feel so out of control. 

    Mike and I did a second ride, in the first row, and the first drop left him with a chipped bone in his elbow and I swear I felt my brain hitting my skull. When we stopped I heard some serious crying and turned around to find the little boy behind us, who was not really tall enough to be on there, with a clearly dislocated shoulder! Mike's elbow got zero sympathy after we saw that teary eyed boy. This roller coaster is NO JOKE!

    After coming to our senses (?) we thought the freak show would be fun but got scammed by the wrong $3 freak show which promised two headed everythings and when we went inside they were in formaldehyde jars! So we drowned our sorrows with a bucket of coronas then headed over to L&B for a really good slice of New York pizza.

    L&B has been there forever, and there are simples rules. You get either a round slice or a square slice, regular or "Sicilian," respectively. The sauce, the cheese, the crust, its all so delicious. If you are ever in Coney Island and you have a car you must pit stop to L&B. Take Stillwell Ave, which is the street under the train, to 86th then make a right. The seating is all outdoor with Brooklyn locals, and after your slice you can enjoy some a cool Italian Ice. 

PORCHETTA - AHHHH!

     Just the name sounds so succulent. Porchetta. This recently opened roasted pig joint is a MUST for anyone who likes pernil, which is basically spanish roasted pork. Like Morta Di Fame, they provide pronunciation and definition for what porchetta is: "[por'ketta] n. roasted pork with crispy skin, highly seasoned with aromatic herbs and spices, garlic, sage, rosemary and wild fennel pollen. Typical plate of the Roman cuisine. Slow cooked Italian fast food."

    The beauty of Porchetta is how simple the menu is (above). And if you're like me, who has anxiety when I open a menu with over ten options, then this place is for you. With extremely reasonable prices and a small no-fuss seating area, Porchetta is a perfect place to grab an inexpensive bite if you're on the go.

 This was my view while I was dining. YUM!

    I always go for the "Plate." Its tender roasted pork, a side of beans and a side of greens, brocolli rabe to be exact. And if thats not enough I have to go with a side of roasted potatoes with the burnt ends of the pork in them. The potatoes are just heavenly. If you want to keep it even more simple, they have a porchetta sandwich that is also phenomenal and if your with a vegetarian there is a mozzarella sandwich option. 

    Is burnt pork skin good for indigestion? Most likely not. Drinking black coffee on an empty stomach had me feeling a little well, sour. So I opted for porchetta for dinner then leftovers for lunch and I was so surprised to be dusting off the Tums. Warning: If you're prone to the agida then stay away from pork skin. Or just keep the Rolaids nearby.

   More on crazy Sicilian ailments, "I gotta the sugah..."

A ROOFTOP FARM IN GREENPOINT, BROOKLYN

    What was more surreal than a farm on top of an industrial warehouse in Greenpoint, Brooklyn with panoramic views of the New York City, was climbing stairs in the warehouse that lead up to the roof top farm.

    Sue and I went up two flights too many and ended up on another roof top overlooking the farm, where I was able to get some interesting shots. We clearly looked lost over there and were instructed to go two flights back down, then through a room filled with junk, then out a hole in the wall onto a courtyard and then up some other steps. Quite an adventure already. 

     Finally we arrived. The rooftop farm is really something you have to see to believe. The contrast between the rural rows of growing plants against towering metal buildings is remarkable. And while you are utterly surrounded by the urban landscape, the skyline, other rooftops, a crane yard, you somehow feel removed from it all. The farm has a vibe all its own that somehow detaches you from all the energy of the city even though the city is staring you in the face. 

      Annie, (above) one of the farmers, graciously greeted us with a warm smile and encouraged us to look around. Walking down the verdant rows of soon to be vegetables delivered a calming sense of order and an exciting feeling of anticipation of what's to come. 

     From the amount of eager volunteer farm hands, its easy to see that a lot of people are happy that this rooftop farm landed in Greenpoint. 

     Ben, (above) Annie's farming business partner, while focusing intently on his task of planting the tiniest basil sprouts, explained that the soil imported from Philadephia, was lifted by crane and poured onto the warehouse rooftop. 

     Greenpoint, a center of industry and home to an ever growing population of immigrants and young professionals alike needs this sort of thing, because we all know that Greenpoint is far from green and this is certainly a step in the right direction. 

     We bought a bunch of tiny sprouts, some swiss chard, kale, a few tomatoes and a watermelon, a good deal at $1 a piece, and "Annie" said good bye to her "little ophans" as we carried them off to their new homes on our own mini urban farms.  

     I will definitely visit the farm again to watch its progress, lend a hand, and maybe get a taste of truly local produce, grown only a borough away. 

     I found out about the rooftop farm in a really informative and well-written article titled A Rooftop Farm for the Future at a great blog called Not Eating Out in New York.