The Arts in New York City
As I was traveling on the F train heading towards Coney Island, I could barely recall the last time that I’ve actually visited this amusement park. Perhaps I was five or maybe even younger. My recollection seemed to consist of me being afraid of my life, as my parents boarded me onto a rollercoaster. No other images came to my mind. The posters and banners that advertised Coney Island seemed to display huge rollercoasters paired with vivid colors. Everyone seemed to be either eating traditional, American fast food, or screaming on the top of their lungs, as they, themselves were on the top of a rollercoaster. In my mind, I actually compared it to the Atlantic City boardwalk, preparing myself for a “fun for all ages” wonderland.
When I finally arrived at Surf Ave. I could smell the food that was being served. There must have been dozens upon dozens of small shacks and restaurants. Everything seemed to involve food. Whether it was the huge sign in front of Nathans advertising the annual hot dog eating contest, or the many colorful shacks along the boardwalk, food part of, if not fully, the main attraction.
Before I physically entered the park itself, I noticed that the gate was painted with all these colorful, but yet semi-abstract paintings. They were all unique from each other. One’s advertising the park, and others just paintings of cartoon- animated people enjoying Coney Island. I actually thought this was a very nice addition to the park, especially since every other amusement park lacked the aesthetics. It seems like many amusements parks today only hang posters advertising rides, instead of letting artists map out how people really feel about the park. After the full visit, I could truly say that the artwork was my favorite part.
When I entered the park, I instantly felt a disconnection with it. I found myself disliking the park, even from the start. Everything seemed very artificial. Koolhaas’ observation that “…this infrastructure supports a largely cardboard reality” and that “technology + cardboard (or any other flimsy material) = reality (Koolhaas, 42) Even on a gloomy day when no one was there, it felt congested. All the rides were stacked right next to each other. Rollercoasters lined up with other rollercoasters. It seemed jam-packed, and that was a negative not only because it made me feel claustrophobic, but the sounds of multiple rides running at the same time, in the same 20 feet radius made it seem even closer to each other.
But what I thoroughly enjoyed was the boardwalk. This part of Coney Island seemed relaxing. Music was playing (finally a noise other than mechanical wheels on a track), and tables were set out so that families can enjoy a quick snack. The shacks also had interesting designs on them. And another thing I thought was interesting were the garbage cans. All of them had pictures on them that were drawn abstractly, like the paintings at the front gate. The garbage cans (even though they seemed like a minor detail) really juxtaposed the mechanical, congested gloomy feel of the park. It added a great layer of personality to the park.
Reading Delirious New York and personally visiting Coney Island, I could see the similarities between my opinions of Coney Island the analysis behind Koolhaas’ history. I felt in par with Koolhaas’ analysis that Coney Island was too congested, and it seemed like it was built to fast, and it amazed too many people who looked at it at a superficial level. Koolhaas even takes a majority of his “Coney Island” chapter to talk about the superficiality of destroying Coney Island’s nature, and then creating this man-made “nature.”
The inordinate number of people assembling on the inadequate acreage, ostensibly seeking confrontation with the reality of the elements (sun, wind, sand, water) demands the systematic conversion of nature into a technical service… the introduction of electricity makes it possible to create a second daytime…giving those unable to reach the water in the daytime a man-made 12 hour extension. (Koolhaas 35)
To take one look at Coney Island, I could easily be content with the variety of rides, and the amazing smells of the food, but after reading about its history, I could see that underneath all the commotion, Coney Island seemed very one dimensional. It offered nothing but congestion and rollercoasters. But there were some points that I didn’t find as accurate as Koolhaas stated. Coney Island itself had no aesthetic qualities, but the boardwalk connected to it did. Its colorful paintings really stood out, and created more of a relatable family park. When I visited that day, there was a model doing a photo shoot there, and I found it ironic that she actually used the boardwalk and beach section of Coney Island in her photo shoot rather than using the amusement park itself, since that was the main attraction.
Also what I found interesting was that the community adjacent to Coney Island was not at all emerged into the Coney Island theme, in fact it seemed very disconnected from that area. Once I got off the subway station, I could tell that the subway tracks that ran above ground separated what was the touristy and loud Coney Island from the quiet neighborhood of apartments. I could have easily observed an imaginary wall dividing these two distinct areas. It was a bit amusing to see the contrast, that as I crossed the street, one side was lined with “Coney Island stores” selling key chains, t shirts and picture frames, and the other was a ordinary, quiet community.
The culture of Coney Island was almost non-existent. I feel as though the amusement park was trying to preserve the old, glorious days of when the park just opened, while mixing it with the modern views of an amusement park, which made it more congested. Also, the culture of Coney Island comes from all the tourists that visit, and since tourists are never the same, its culture is based on something that is forever changing.
The High Line, however, was a complete contrast to Coney Island. The area was serene and quiet. The only sounds you could hear were the casual conversations of people enjoying the area or the bustling of the city below the park. No one was in a rush to go anywhere. Though the whole park seemed to be a bit repetitive, it served as a place of relaxation, something that people of all ages, could truly appreciate.
I entered through the 14th Street and 10th Avenue entrance, and right when I entered I immediately felt the serenity of the area. People were sitting around on the benches and at the tables enjoying a cup of iced tea, and just letting themselves absorb the atmosphere of the park. Children were running around with Popsicle sticks while adults were taking photographs of the different landscaping.
The city around the High Line was completely emerged with the park itself. There was not a trace of differentiation between them. The High Line ran through its neighborhood, and everyone seemed to enjoy both the housing apartments around the High Line, as well as the park. Unlike Coney Island where the community had nothing to do with the attraction, the High Line was literally in people’s backyards. Plants that were growing from the sides of the park, grew into people’s fences. While walking through the path, I could actually hear people’s conversations in the apartment buildings. The two were inseparable.
The High Line wasn’t as aesthetically decorated as Coney Island was. While Coney Island had the abstract paintings, the High Line focused on nature. Most of its artistic décor came from the plants, which was beautifully juxtaposed by the rather artificial New York City. The part that I found interesting was the seating areas that had a plastic screen in the front, which let visitors sit and watch the city as if it was on television. I thought that was a very clever idea to let visitors enjoy the serene nature of the park, while not losing the atmosphere of being in the heart of New York City. Also, the benches that were placed in the park were also a very interesting piece of art, because one side was a regular wooden bench, but the other side was curved, so that it connected with the floor. At first I didn’t understand what this was used for, but then I saw a child sliding down the bench, and I realized how artistic and child-friendly it was.
The only thing I found ironic was that there were strings put up around the landscaping and signs that were posted, saying “Protect the Plants, Stay on the Path.” I found this strange because the High Line was basically a very ancient railway system that was no longer used, and so all these plants and weeds were the results, and after people saw how natural and not artificial it was, they really enjoyed it. But yet they institutionalized it, into a way that it was in this imaginary glass case, just as if it were in a museum. It reminded me so much of the Fluxus movement, where the artists meant for it to be touched and experienced, but yet people these days want to protect it, which defeats it’s meaning.
Joel Sternfield comments on the High Line saying that it is unlike Central Park because it
… is really cosmetic in many ways. This is a true time landscape, a railroad ruin. The abandoned place is the place where seasonality resides. These little shoots-see this! This is the real look of spring.” (Sternfield 45)
I disagree with this slightly because even though the nature aspect of the park was definitely there, it feel as if people did institutionalize it and made it cosmetic, (not as much as Central Park though). There were signs also saying that they were “Lawn Closed for Restoration” which I saw as an insult to the park. The park was already beautiful as it was, why do people have a need to control how nature grows? Of course the seasons change, and so some plants die off, but then people feel like the park should always maintain a specific look to it, and that is what made it a bit superficial for me. But I would definitely have to say that I relate more to the High Line because it shows more genuine culture than Coney Island does.
Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious New York. New York: Monacelli Press, 1994. Print.
Gopnik, Adam. “A Walk on the High Line.” The New Yorker May 21, 2001: 44-49. Print.
My Heart pumps hard in my chest,
There is nothing I can do now.
I try to put my fears to rest,
Travelling up to plummet back down.
It’s the reason we came here as kids,
To enjoy the motion in this car.
The girls in front of me having fits
The ground never seemed so far
We begin our descent to the floor
My insides come up through my neck
The adrenaline hits every inch of my core
“This coaster better not end in wreck”
Fears like that have no place here,
Other riders make it clear.
I wipe my hair from my ear,
I have conquered my fear.
The first drop is the real thrill.
A poem about The Cyclone, one of my favorite childhood memories.
A garden.
Weeds,
Dry,
Neglected,
Entirely
lacking
its
needs.
A choice.
What to do,
Rebuild?
Destroy?
It’s completely
up
to
you.
A group.
Strengths,
Determination,
Perseverance,
Working to
reach
great
lengths.
A plan.
Rake,
Hoe,
Water,
With time,
it
will
reawake.
A garden.
Green,
Plants,
Full,
Amongst
the greatest
ever
seen.
The garden represents the High Line. The group represents the Friends of the High Line who fought for it to be preserved. Today, after a lot of hard work and devotion, the High Line is truly a beautiful “garden.”
Coney Island is a place that is not connected to the culture of a different country, but purely to the American culture. While one walks throughout Coney Island, you quickly realize that it is unlike any other part of Brooklyn, or any other place in this world. Characterized by its long-standing landmarks, enormous amounts of tourists, and its highly populated streets and beach, Coney Island is in and of itself a miniaturized world.
I started my visit to Coney Island as early as possible, because there is simply so much to do there that it was required to arrive early. I spent some time on the beach around West 33rd Street. The scene was incredible. There were hundreds of people filling the beach, mostly between the ages of 15 and 25. Large groups would crowd together to take the sun, play a sport such as soccer, or just cool off in the water.
Next I left the beach to walk along the boardwalk, where there were many attractions such as “Shoot The Freak,” a game where you pay to shoot a shielded man with a paintball gun. The “Freak” was dressed in red white and blue. This signified something to me, and it was not simply that this game was in America, or that the owners of this attraction were patriotic. I realized that I was playing a game that simply felt American, in a place, Coney Island, that is built on original American ideas, with the feel of New York all over it. From Nathan’s to the Cyclone to the Brooklyn Cyclones in MCU Park, Coney Island takes almost nothing from the cultures of other nations, but simply has created its very own subculture.
The trip that I took to the High Line in Manhattan was a very different experience from that of Coney Island. I arrived there in the afternoon, and quickly realized that it was not a place of chaos with massive amounts of people, or a place of mechanical attractions. Rather, it fit the present-day ideas of recreation and restoring or preserving nature. Much like Central Park, the High Line Park was a place that took on the theme of nature, even though it wasn’t necessarily a natural environment.
The “man-made nature” of High Line Park was something that had a completely different effect on my mindset than that of Coney Island. I felt peaceful, like I was simply an observer in a beautiful show. I did not pay attention to the fact that I was walking on an old railroad, but simply enjoyed the plants and displays of the park. This pleasant experience was interrupted, however, by the large amounts of stands that appear in some places in the park. I was disappointed by the fact that people simply trying to sell you things offset this supposedly natural setting. There is a time and place for everything, and High Line Park is not the place for souvenir stands. In High Line Park, I realized that it blended hints of recreation, preservation, and capitalism, three things that are not usually tied together.
Goldberger’s claims that the High Line was “strangely quiet” is actually the perfect way for me to describe what I felt as I walked along the old train tracks (Goldberger). There were hundreds of people everywhere, with cameras going off, people offering you things to buy, and children running and playing, but there was a sense of quietness as I walked. It seemed like I was able to simply zone out of what was going around me as far as people go, but zone in to what was going on around me in the sense of the surrounding area. It felt like I was alone, experiencing nature by myself, but in reality, I was surrounded by an uncountable number of voices.
Works Cited
1. Goldberger, Paul. “Miracle Above Manhattan.” National Geographic April 2011: 122-137. Print.
There are two New York City landmarks that stand out as creations of their time and neighborhood. As a class assignment, we were asked to visit these two sites, Coney Island and the New York City Highline. Both provide recreation different ways. The High Line started as an abandoned railroad track and was repurposed as an escape for New Yorkers. Coney Island, as long as its been built, has been a collection of attractions for families living throughout Brooklyn.
When the residents of the Chelsea neighborhood heard they were going to tear down the abandoned railroad tracks that ran above the west side of the city, they organized protests. They thought it would be better for the neighborhood if the tracks were repurposed as a park. This illustrates the growing desire within the Chelsea community, and New York City as a whole, to revitalize the urban landscape. To New Yorkers it has “always been a dream to find an open space – especially when you live in a studio apartment” (Goldberger 4). Often referred to as the “Miracle Above Manhattan”, the High Line was created to fill the need for a quiet escape from the pollution and city noise.
In the early 20th century, Coney Island was designed to be affordable and wholesome family entertainment. In the center of a predominantly immigrant community, it provided recreation for people of any age, class or background. After Coney Island was created it was said “if Paris is France, Coney Island, between June and September is the world” (Koolhaas 38). After surviving an attempt to turn it into expensive beachside condos, supporters of Coney Island decided to rebuild the parks. In my opinion, Coney Island now is a modern amusement park that is still trying to recapture the authenticity of the early 20th century. It has attempted to do this by placing modern attractions around the around older rides and stands. What caught my eye most was in the place of the old Steeplechase, stands a new, modern roller coaster.
Even though I enjoyed my visit to Coney Island, I left with a bad taste in my mouth. I found myself longing for the seedy, dangerous Coney Island I remembered. Coney Island, in my opinion, has turned into an area used for commercial gain . Everything in the new and improved Coney Island was too shiny, too safe and too commercial. In trying to create a modern interpretation of itself, it lost its old world charm. Instead of old and vaguely unsafe rides, Coney Island now boasts roller coasters you would find in in Six Flags. To me this modern Coney Island feels too sterile and unfriendly.
After visiting the High Line I left with the opposite feeling. The High Line, to me, is a more pure creation Though I know that the High Line provided some commercial benefit to New York City and its surrounding neighborhoods, it is far less apparent. It was created so that New Yorkers have an escape above all the commotion. Unlike Coney Island there is no charge to enjoy the High Line. Obviously missing from the High Line are business and advertisements. One is just surrounded by trees, wildlife, and beautiful waterfalls. It truly feels that while visiting the High Line, you escape to your own paradise.
Coney Island and the High Line offer different forms of recreation. Coney Island provides the community a park filled with activity, rides, and noise, while the attraction of the High Line is the absence of all entertainment It’s a place that is meant for relaxation and escape. Both places are reflections of the neighborhood they were built in, and in my opinion will continue to be landmarks for years to come.
Works Cited
Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious New York. New York: Monacelli Press, 1994. Print.
Goldberger, Paul. “Miracle Above Manhattan.” National Geographic April 2011: 122-137. Print.
Coney Island on a bright sunny day.
The people are walking
The families are bathing
Old couples are holding hands, talking
Of all the times they spent dating
The children are playing in the sand
The man is waiting for the fish to bite
It has become their Dreamland
A place where ideas of fun unite
A place of relaxation for the city
An escape from the hectic and busy
A place fresh and full of possibility
Where life becomes simple and easy
A place so treasured and close
This is Coney Island
A place that every New Yorker knows
This is Coney Island
The startled old man turned back and looked at the cowering woman draped in rags. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bump into you,” Emily deceivingly assured him. “Oh, don’t worry dear, it’s a crowded place. You can’t avoid everyone!” he replied. Emily flashed a smile and walked on, gazing around at the buildings shielding her from the scorching midday sun as she made her way along the High Line Park. It seemed like it was only yesterday that she was a little girl, sitting in her old rundown one bedroom apartment on the west side, trying to drown out the noise of the freight cars moving along the railway throughout factories and warehouses. She dreaded that sound, and dreamed of nothing but one day moving as far away from that noise and the city. Ironically, the one thing she dreamed of getting away from was now her only means of survival.
She looked through the wallet of the old man that she pickpocketed, and finding nothing but a few bills she threw it in the nearest garbage can. Theft was the one thing she had to resort to after the death of her family, and since she had no one to go to, no documents to prove her identity, she spend most of her nights in the streets of Manhattan.
Going past a few strangers, she looked upon her childhood apartment, which stood adjacent to the rail line, and wondered who lived there now. Emily thought about how happy the occupants must be that the railway next to them is free of the noisy freight trains and how disappointed they must be that privacy was not a virtue.
Walking on towards 23rd street, she was soon surrounded by buildings again. Emily despised this part of the park. The monstrous behemoths overshadowed her, looked down upon her feeble soul as if to say that she was below everyone else, that who she was, what she was doing, was no secret to anyone and no matter how much she tried to change it, she was always going to be inferior to everyone around her. The area made her feel scared and guilty about her actions. She constantly imagined everyone looking through their windows, staring at her with contempt and pity. She felt like jumping off the rail line, into an alley where everyone would forget her and she would cease to exist. At least then, she thought, the depression, fear and desperation would end. She began thinking about her parents and her brothers, her life before a fire took their lives. She used to hate this railway, but now she would do anything to get it back. Her desire to go back to the life with her parents, to the sleepless nights trying to drown out the noise outside, was overwhelming. At least back then she had a life, Emily thought to herself.
Tears rolled down her eyes as she climbed over the park railing and up the ladder onto an adjacent rooftop. She pulled out an old can of white spray paint she found amongst bags of garbage a few weeks ago, and shook it violently. Standing on the rooftop overlooking a section of the park, Emily remembered her parents, her siblings, and her childhood. She raised her hand and began writing on the gray brick wall. After a few seconds, and spray paint can in hand, she slowly backed up to gaze at her work, ignoring the colorful graffiti next to her words. She continued to move back slowly and felt the ground disappear beneath her feet as walked off the side of the building, plummeting several stories into the dark alley below.
Approaching the High Line Park, my friend and I were surprised at how much the lumbering bridge-like structure looked more like an abandoned railway and less like a park. It was bewildering, and my friend questioned whether we were at the right place. It turns out we weren’t lost, and in fact this bizarre structure that cut through the buildings and alleyways was considered a recreational area.
Build in the 1930’s, the purpose of the rail line was to free the streets of the dangerous freight trains that distributed goods throughout the city. Soon however the rail line became abandoned. Decades later, the relic was made into a city park with an interesting ambiance amidst the colossal metropolis that surrounds its narrow walkway.
As I climbed up the stairs with my friend, a long stretch of grass, a makeshift lawn amongst the towering buildings that surrounded the area greeted us. It was a peculiar sight,something you wouldn’t expect amidst Manhattan, a city known for traffic jams and clouds of pollution. Walking forward, the sounds of the city and the crowded atmosphere created an interesting contrast with the park. Naturally 
a park is known for the wide stretch of open space that allows for freedom of movement and creates a tranquil atmosphere. The High Line was anything but that. People sometimes shoved each other, and it was overcrowded, a trait true to Manhattan itself. The sounds of nature were replaced by the sounds of car horns, construction and people. The park was more artificial than it was natural.
An interesting aspect of the High Line was how heavily it was integrated into the surrounding neighborhood. The park cuts straight through buildings and often runs by windows, raising the question of how anyone living there can sacrifice sunlight for privacy. The park is raised above ground, a quality that has become the model for construction in Manhattan. For a metropolis that has run out of room, its only option is to build upwards and sooner or later, this will apply to not only residential structures, but to recreational areas as well. This above ground style however creates its own unique experience that is not found anywhere else in New York City.
Walking further along the park
, I came upon a message drawn in spray paint on one of the buildings adjacent to the park. It said “R.I.P High Line,” and I immediately thought of everyone that disapproved of this area. I began think about those individuals who were in support of saving the highline, but not recreating it. There were people who loved the piece of New York as it was, and to them, changing it would be destroying that piece of the city. People like John Sternfeld, a photographer who comes to shoot the park every season, see the High Line as something that is already accomplished and wish to keep it as it is. (Gopnik)
Coney Island was an experience completely different from the High Line. I talked to one of the employees of the park and luckily enough he turned out to be the assistant manager at Luna Park. He lead me to the managers office and gave me a bit of a history lesson on the park and let me take a few pictures.
The park is a recreational area filled with amusement rides and a nearby beach, all of which remind me of the traditional “fun in the summer sun” type of experience, and something which the High Line cannot offer. Yet the Coney Island amusement park encompases several distinct towering structures which you wouldn’t normally associate with Brooklyn. Examples include the Parachute Jump, the tall red and white obeservation deck and the Wonder Wheel. I was surprised at how much the lights, the crowds and the gigantic attractions reminded me of Manhattan. The park sat far from any buildings in an open area that looked out onto the ocean and lacked that tight crowded atmosphere of the High Line. Yet it shared so much qualities with Manhattan.
The amusement park had all the features that one would expect of the city. But why was it located here in Brooklyn? While pondering on that question I was reminded of Koolhaas’ description of the early days of the island. “Coney Island is the incubator for Manhattan’s incipient themes and infant mythology. The strategies and mechanisms that later shape Manhattan are tested in the laboratory of Coney Island before they finally leap towards the larger island. Coney Island is a fetal Manhattan.” (Koolhaas p 30.)
The Coney Island amusement park, even in its early days, strived to rival the architecture of Manhattan. However over the years it became something unique for everyone in Brooklyn and now provides an experience unmatched by anything else in New York.
Walking along the boardwalk I noticed several garbage cans painted with a variety of designs. Unfortunately my camera died by nightfall but there was something unique about these garbage cans. I have seen them countless times before but when doing this assignment I noticed how well they reflect the distinctiveness of Coney Island. The trash barrels which line the middle of the boardwalk are painted annually as part of the “Boardwalk Barrels of Fun Contest.” I was intrigued at how something that is usually associated with dirt and filth can be made into art by average individuals all around Coney Island. The idea of Fluxus Art struck my mind and I thought it was remarkable how both the exterior and interior of the garbage barrel can be thought of as an artistic object. There was no need for proffesional artists, like those who designed the art pieces on the High Line. Anyone who wished to paint a barrel could enter into the contest. The garbage cans reflect the personalities of everyone in the surrounding neighborhood, something that the High Line lacks. Whereas the High Line reflects a view of a select few individuals (its designers), Coney Island strives to be a product of its visitors. When a person throws something into those barrels, they are contributing to the art that makes Coney Island unique and special.
Works Cited:
Koolhaas, Rem. Delirious New York. New York: The Monacelli Press, 1994.
Gopnik, Adam. “A Walk on the High Line.” The New Yorker May 21, 2001: 44-49. Print.
It was a cool and breezy night on Coney Island; large clouds loomed in the sky permitting the almost full moon to shine through only on occasion. Most of the people were exiting the boardwalk to head home, but a small crowd was gathering around the rails next to the beach, anticipating the upcoming fireworks show.
“I can’t believe it’s almost the end of summer.” said Joshua.
“Yeah,” responded Farina, “there was so much other stuff I wanted to do before school.”
“Hey, I’m the wistful, melancholy one, okay? You’re generally more plucky, so what’s up?”
“I just feel like we didn’t do enough, I mean, we don’t have many summer vacations left, you know?” Farina looked across the beach speaking again, “I don’t what’s gotten into me.”
“Kevin, perhaps?” Joshua suggested with a grin.
“Shut up, we’re just friends!”
“Namaste, amigos!”
Joshua and Farina turned toward where they heard the voice, recognizing their friend Caesar approaching. He was born to a mixed family so he had a distinct appearance and was easily confused for Hispanic, South Asian, and various types of Mediterranean. His family moved around a lot when he was a child, too, so he always had trouble answering people when they inevitably asked him what he was or where he was from. Eventually, he realized he had more fun just making up stories drawing from his background and experience; so, he started pretending to be different ethnicities every couple of days or weeks, which was always entertaining to the people who knew him well.
“So, Indian-Mexican today, huh?” Joshua asked.
“Indian-Ecuadorian, actually.” responded Caesar cheerfully.
“Of course.” said Joshua as he chuckled and turned back to beach. Shouldn’t the fireworks have started by now?”.
“I heard there was an accident somewhere on the beach, so they got delayed.” said the man standing next to Farina.
“Some drunk crashed his boat on the shore.” continued an elderly woman sitting on the bench.
Farina stretched and groaned, “If the show ends up being cancelled then he’ll have totally messed up our last night out.”
“That’s pretty mean Fay-Fay,” said Caesar. “Aren’t you worried about the guy or if anyone got hurt?”.
“Of course I am.” she responded earnestly.
“Honesty, I expected you to say that Joshua.” said Caesar while pretending to ignore her.
“She’s been stealing my thunder all night.” sighed Joshua.
“Stop picking on me.” Farina said while pouting, making all three of them laugh.
Joshua reached into his pocket to take out his phone and check the time, but accidently pulled his keychain out with it. It fell to ground and Farina bent down to pick it up, noticing one key in particular.
“Hey Joshy, what’s this?”
“Oh, it’s a handcuff key.”
“A handcuff key?”
“Yes, a handcuff key.”
Farina paused and let out a sigh. “Should I even ask why you have this?”.
“You should,” responded Joshua, as he leaned on the railing, arms crossed over his chest, “it’s a good story.”
A silence passed over the trio. Farina stared expectantly at Joshua, while he didn’t take his eyes off the Parachute Jump in the distance. Caesar looked back and forth between the two of them, not entirely sure of what was happening.
“Well?” asked Farina impatiently.
“Well, what?” answered Joshua calmly.
“Why aren’t you telling the story?”
“You didn’t ask yet.”
Caesar laughed and Farina put her face in her palm, “Just tell us the story.”
Joshua shifted his weight, put his hands in his pockets, took a breath, and started. “It was a few years ago, in middle school. There was this one small store on the corner near the school that my friends and I went to. The owners were jerks and we were stupid, so we would occasionally steal things – snacks, cans of beer, a few lighters. We were browsing the shelves one day when one of the workers picked a friend of mine up and threw him behind the counter before calling the police. The rest of us looked at him, and then at each other, and ran; to the school, to the park, to our homes, anywhere away from the store and without a second thought. We met up in the schoolyard later and saw the friend that was caught. After crying and paying for the stuff he had on him the police and store let him go, but we were all banned from entering the store again. He told us that he really wasn’t trying to steal that time, that he just walked by the door on his way to the cashier. I still don’t know if he was telling the truth or not.”
“But, where does the key come in?” Caesar asked.
“I bought it a few days later and showed it off as something to use just in case we got caught again. I actually don’t know if it works, and even if it did, it wouldn’t do much good while it’s on my chain like it is. I keep it as a reminder of how weak I was then. That I didn’t do anything to help my friend, that I didn’t own up to what I did, that I even involved myself in the first place.”
The fireworks finally began, and Joshua turned to look at them. Caesar and Farina looked at one another, unsure of what to do or say. Joshua looked over his shoulder, smiled, and said, “The fireworks look great, don’t they?”.
“You don’t talk a lot, but when you do it’s some pretty heavy stuff.” said Caesar as he and Farina moved up to the railing.
“You ought to talk more often.” chimed in Farina.
“I’d run out of things to say.” Joshua replied with a shrug. “We’ve got a few more days off, you guys want to go wander around the city or something tomorrow?” Turning to Farina, he continued, “We could invite Kevin.”
“Who’s Kevin?” Caesar asked while laughing.
“No one! Shut up Joshy!” Farina yelled over the fireworks before joining the other two in laughter.
