The Wander List

a daily guide to wanderlust in the city

Fall For a Red Striped Sea Nettle June 10, 2009

MemorialDay09 122My absolute favorite thing about Coney Island is the New York Aquarium. The beach, of course, is a close second, reminding me of the year I lived in Los Angeles and passed entire weekends meditating to sounds of the shore.

 

But my new fascination is life in the deep sea. The Aquarium brings rare fish, anemones and sharks to the surface in a way I’ve never seen. And it offers up interesting trivia: did you know colors disappear in the deep sea, and red is the first to go? Blue is last. Also, some sea creatures poised to be natural enemies will team up for a lifetime, imprinting one another with their scent, fighting off bad guys like underwater Batman and Robins.

 

This is a dynamite trip for photographers. I snapped these pics with a little point and shoot.  Imagine what you could capture with a sophisticated lens?

 

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Kids armed with cell phones snap photos of sharks.

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The Red Stripped Sea Nettles bewitched all who saw them.

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The jellyfish were quite ghostly.

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Maybe if I lay real still, they won't see me.

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The ugliest fish in New York.

New York Aquarium
Surf Avenue & West 8th Street
Brooklyn, New York 11224
(718) 265-FISH
nyaquarium.com 

Tickets:
$13 adults; $10 seniors; $9 kids

Summer Hours:
May 23-Sept. 7, 2009
Last ticket sold 5:15 weekdays,
6:15 weekends and holidays
Aquarium closes 45 minutes
after the last ticket is sold.

Special events:
Terrible Twos! Walrus Big Baby Birthday Bash
music, crafts, festivities
June 13-14, 2009

Mermaids of the Deep
music, mermaids, myth
June 20-21, 2009

Halloween at the A-Scarium
family fun
Oct. 31-Nov. 1, 2009

 

Get a Hot Dog, Stat! May 28, 2009

Tasty cheese fries, easy on the fries.

Tasty cheese fries, easy on the fries.

Death Cab for Cutie’s song Coney Island has been looping in my head since Chris and I trekked to the beach spot last weekend. Maybe because of the lyrics, I anticipated a desolate relic “of summers past,” a kind of Santa Monica meets Tombstone.

 

I can hear the Atlantic echo back,
roller coaster screams from summers past.
and everything was closed at Coney Island
and I could not help from smiling
Brooklyn will fill the beach eventually
and everyone will go except me.

 

The band was smart to travel off-season. This Memorial Day, it seemed every city in the world sent a delegate.

 

We rode the subway for an hour and, without thinking, I hopped in line at the sprawling Nathan’s Famous hot dog stand across from the station. It’s several stands, really, with lines for hot dogs, fried chicken, hamburgers and frog legs. I’ll let you guess which was shortest.

 

An hour away from fried bliss.

An hour away from fried bliss.

It took an hour to get a corn dog, meanwhile Chris found a taco stand, devoured his quesadilla and explored the peninsula. (Did you know Coney Island is no longer an island? A creek separating it from Brooklyn was filled in some 50 years ago. But “Coney Peninsula” doesn’t roll off the tongue.)

 

I can’t say the dog isn’t worth the wait. All beef aside, its history is compelling. A Polish immigrant, Nathan Handwerker, founded the business with his wife’s recipe in 1916. Al Capone and Cary Grant were regular customers. And forget kissing babies – Nelson Rockefeller said you must be photographed eating a Nathan’s hot dog to get elected in New York.

 

But I’d suggest walking past the big stand and hitting the boardwalk and carnival. Both have smaller Nathan’s vendors with shorter lines. And if you are feeling extra sacrilegious, hop over to the competition for a Chicago-style dog.

 

In the end you’ll have more time to play on the beach, eat cotton candy and check out the freak shows, which is what you’re really hungry for.

 

 

"Victory!" Or, "I went to Coney Island and all I got was fat."

"Victory!" Or, "I went to Coney Island and all I got was fat."

Planning a trip? Try

www.coneyislandfunguide.com

 And coming up at The Wander List: The Headless Woman, Shoot the Freak, and other Coney Island oddities.

 

 
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