The Brighton beach train station greeted me the sounds of a screeching subway train. The sounds of peoples’ shoes hitting the floor as they walked around was quickly drowned out by the sound of the subway train pulling out of the subway platform. A gust of air passed my ears as the train moved past me, inducing a sense of fear that something would happen to me as the train moved. As we waited for the final member of the group to arrive, sea gulls marked their presence in the sky using their bird calls. Cars honked at each other in order to signal that the light had changed to green while others honked because pedestrians crossed the street when it wasn’t their turn to occupy the road. One person talked on his phone as if to advertise to everyone that he was a very social person. When the train came to a halt in front of me, our final group member stepped out of the train, at which point we proceeded to the neighborhood.
The multitude of people on the street made it impossible to distinguish one conversation from another. Musicians played odd music while other people talked on their phones. Some people played music out loud and danced to it while walking down the street, drawing amusement from some in the crowd. Cars that were double parked on the road received the rebuke of the passerby cars as they honked repeatedly. Above our heads, the train began to accelerate, creating sounds of the wheels rolling on the tracks. During our walk, we met and interviewed a violinist who, apparently, had been playing music for many years. Although he played a small music sample, I didn’t think it was particularly noteworthy but the thought is what counts. After paying him, we moved onto the beach.
When we arrived at the beach, the sand seemed ubiquitous. Listening quietly, I heard the sifting of the sand as my shifting weight moved around the sand. The crashing of the waves filled my ears the closer we moved to the water. As the water approached us, the fizzing of the water bubbles became apparent, creating worries that our shoes would get wet. Sea gulls planted themselves near the water, retreating whenever people or the sea water approached. People walked parallel to the beach with dogs that panted rhythmically. In the nearby stores, the customers conversed while the cashiers attempted to provide information to potential customers. Couples walking on the beach giggled at some joke. After much walking, we finally reached the boardwalk.
When we reached the boardwalk, I was amazed at my presence on top of the beach. Being closer to the water, the sounds of the waves were amplified as the wind rode on top of the water. Some people had radios which played a soft Jazz music as they glanced off into the sea. Off to the side, some men were fishing. Some fishermen were placidly waiting for a fish to be caught on their bait while others were standing eagerly in anticipation. Upon grabbing a fish from the sea, one fisherman gutted the struggling, helpless fish that was waving back and forth. The fish was then thrown near an ice box where the fish met its fate. Moments before its death, the fish waved vigorously as if attempting to cling on to the last bits of its life. The sound of the fish rubbing against the floor of the boardwalk was so disheartening as its guts spilled over the floor. Other people, however, seemed too absorbed with the surroundings to notice this. Ironically, my stomach started growling, leading me to suggest to the group to get lunch.
After walking around, we procured the same lunch that I ate last time: a Pirashki. When ordering, Mark spoke to the cashier in Russian, cultivating a more personal bond between the two individuals as exemplified by the woman’s smile as she talked to Mark. Somewhat surprising, however, was the suspicion that the woman exhibited upon Asad’s question of what was in the Pirashki. The woman replied by sarcastically saying “you think I put bugs in here?” Aside from that disturbing image, the Pirashki was delicious, offering a scrumptious sound as I bit into it. After eating, we decided to head home and proceeded toward the subway station.
The subway station was much quieter than in the morning when we had arrived. Fewer people occupied the seats, allowing me to finish my Pirashki in peace. The conductor mentioned something inaudible on the speakers. The doors closed. We headed home.
~Abraham
