It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. No, sorry it was just the grandest of times. The Coney Island Siren Festival was a sweaty debacle filled with live music, beer islands, log flumes and that questionable ocean water.
We began our journey through throngs of people, eclectic people. Ranging from your classic hipster to bums with trash cans as legs. However visually stimulating this scene was, we knew it was time to start breaking open the cervezas. What was the beer of choice you ask? Tecate. We wanted to get rowdy. Mexican style.
I was just about to sling back a fresh one when from what did my wondering eyes did appear? A man! A man in a suit...in 90 degree weather...clutching to a stuffed walrus for dear life. This man was elusive, mysterious and just downright sexy. I found myself pining for him and using my x-ray superpower to determine what was under that suit. He strutted through the crowds, determined. On a mission. Into my heart...
We decided to move onto the music and soak in all the tunes that we could. Bands like Broken Social Scene, Helio Sequence, RA RA Riot and Jaguar Love were rocking out and we were breaking sweats. It was around this time that we noticed the monument erected from the heavens that would be our meeting place for the friends and randoms. We gazed into the sky and lo and behold-THE RING OF FIRE. All hail the RING OF FIRE! It was the ultimate vomit machine glowing in the summer sun. It was time to meet and greet and the ring of fire was our North Star.
It was around this time that Jules started to really feel the Mexican inside her and whip out everyone's favorite accessory: the paper bag hat and matching beer can bracelet. These accessories are treasured fashion gems and a steal! All for the bargain price of pride and dignity! She rocked it like a lady and we awed and ogled at the high praise it got from the crowd. We decided that our fashion contribution to society was made and headed towards the park.
The park was alive with excitement and offered us the temptation of vomit inducing scramblers, urine log flumes and pina coladas served out of a breasty lady. All this excitement made us have to retreat to the restroom. We were left with two choices. Pay a quarter and stand in line for a cool half hour or use the biggest toilet in the world. Despite the looming recession, we decided to stick to paying and waited in line. But the big toilet was still calling and so we headed down to the beach.
After the beach we decided to sit and relax on beer island. Ahh beer island, where the beers flow like waterfalls and people mysteriously disappear into the bushes. We pulled up some seats and started shooting the shit into dusk. Big G and I had smoked all of our blessed piggies (pot ciggies) and were forced to fulfill our oral fixation with pizza. A pizza perfect ending to our time at the blessed beer island.
Our day at Coney Island was a truly heartwarming experience but we felt we needed more. And Jules' new flyer mask was just not cutting it. We decided to venture into the deepest depths of Brooklyn and visit Brooklyn Dave: your quintessential easy going, don't give a flaming hell, all around stand up guy. Sweet Ol' Brooklyn Dave directed us to his place of work: Royal Oak. It was at the Royal Oak that we were revived of our depleting energy and given a jolt of our life power with a refreshing beer. Brooklyn Dave was simply unstoppable and so we were left with Smelly NO. 16. Oh the times we shared with smelly no.16! We all sat lovingly close on the window sill and basked in the glorious times we had shared that day. Smelly NO. 16 was a lover and not a hater...and how could you be when your noxious odor was enveloping the entire bar? But we did not discriminate. How could we? We were no prize pigs ourselves. Smelly No. 16 was gracious enough to serve us free beer and grace us with his smelly tales. We laughed. We cried. We smelled good ol NO.16 deep into the summer night...and before we knew it the sun was rising and the world was illuminated once again, welcoming new debacles and of course, debauchery.
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