It is Friday, March 17th, 10:00am. This is our first time entering our neighborhood, our boardwalk. It is frigid, it is desolate. We trudge along the narrow walkway, still covered with ice as it is only two days after a major mid-winter snowstorm. We try not to slip as we ascend the stairs. Alas, we reach the boardwalk.
It is not shoveled, it is not paved. Then again, there is not a soul in sight. We are the sole souls. I cannot smell anything; I can only feel the wind biting my face. I take my hands out of my pockets only to take videos and pictures for my research. I regret not bringing gloves.
Ruthie, Rachel, and I advance further. We are determined to find people, a person, a body, and interview them. In the distance we see just that–a body. A man in a t-shirt and shorts, trotting through the unplowed snow onto the snowy beach. At first we were excited, then realized there is no way we could catch up to him to speak with him. So we captured the moment with a picture instead.
We found a woman in a brown coat scurrying along. We wondered what anybody might be doing here at this hour of 10am on a Friday morning, in this weather. We asked her a few questions and discovered, despite her broken English, she was from Uzbekistan and moved to Brighton Beach two years ago. We let her go along her way; it did not seem she cared for much chit-chat.
Our next find was quite different. He found us. This Chinese man asked Ruthie to take a picture of him, and then naturally the four of us got to talking. He has been living in America for 10 years since leaving from China. He has two daughters and is a school bus driver. He was a nice man with plenty to offer. He was on the boardwalk because it is a part of his routine–every morning after breakfast he walks a bit. He is inspiring.
We find and speak to an English couple here as tourists and two workers here paving the way to the restrooms. We walk a bit more to the pier where i find a fresh cigarette butt amid the snow. I get excited: Life! Life on this boardwalk! I proceed to touch the wooden bench in front of me. It feels oddly smooth. Nicely sanded. Although we are so close to the ocean, I cannot smell the sea as I would expect to.
In between our interview finds we go on an adventure. We ice skate through the boardwalk to the ferris wheel. We see construction. I politely ask a construction worker for an interview. He declines. He says they are busy building a restaurant here. I say I will stay tuned. Beyond him is the pavilion. Rachel explains this is where they hold summer concerts. It is getting late and we are cold. I start to trudge back and make our way to safety.
