Coney Island

Marlen's brother, Pablo came over for a visit this weekend. I realized as a person living in New York, I don't know much about touring. I hate having to figure out what to show people when they visit. I don't do much here beyond work, eat and shop, and go to dance classes. If none of those are interesting, and shows aren't interesting then I'm really at a loss. Marlen's brother had us all at a loss. No idea what he likes to do, so Marlen just took him to all the places she liked. I took the gang out to Flushing on Sunday morning for dimsum, which I think Pablo and Mark LOVED. Marlen was in the midst of food coma so I took them to Gramma's empty apartment where they just relaxed a bit while I waited for Axel to pick me up.

Axel and I took a little detour into Greenpoint for some coffee and cake, and then we made our way to Coney Island. There was a crowd of guys with zippy looking motorcycles riding around. Axel zoomed right by. They were more interested in revving their engines which I have learned is not a good thing to do to your bike. I did also notice that the girls on the backs of the other bikes were in horribly uncomfortable positions. Mostly because they were all the types of bikes where you have to lean over. Axel's is, to a degree, but I can sit up straight whereas those girls can't.

The beach was still too cold for swimming, but perfect for lying on a towel. We basically just lay in the sun and chatted for a few hours and then we got up and walked around. I tried one of the famous Nathan's hot dogs and then we went on the Cyclone (roller coaster!). Then dinner at an Uygur Restaurant in Brighton Beach. I think Uygur is the northwestern-most provice of China which borders Russia. The decor looked Tibetan, the people looked Turkish, and the food...tasted like Mom's cooking. Axel really enjoyed it and I told him if he liked it that much, he'd like mom's food. The experience was a little odd, mostly because I never expected a Turkish-looking person to cook Chinese food.

Then it was back to Astoria. A whole 45 minutes by motorcycle. A whole 45 minutes of fear sweat. No, it wasn't that bad, but I did whimper a few times when we went over a bad pothole and my butt momentarily lost contact with the seat. And it was gusty, very gusty. Axel tells me that it's an hour motorcycle ride to get to Fire Island, which we're planning on doing this summer. I told him he'd have to pull over every half hour so I could stretch a little. He assured me it wouldn't be nearly as tiring once we hit open road that wasn't pothole-ridden and start-stoppy. We'll see...there was a really nice moment on the way to Coney Island where the roads were smooth and the traffic was negligible. The sun was shining and there was water on one side and happy looking houses and grass and trees on the other.