Linda and I hopped on the Q Saturday afternoon and rolled down to Coney Island to catch the yearly spectacle “Mermaid Parade.” When we got there, we realized that we came a bit too late as the streets were packed with spectators and mermaids were hustling to get into position. We did the best we could and shoved our way to the front of the rows of people stacked six deep and waited for the show to begin.
Now here’s something I didn’t know about mermaids; apparently they like to drive vintage hot rods and burn massive amounts of rubber. One mer-dude peeled out right in front of five cops and got them all choking on melted rubber fumes. I laughed really hard, which had people looking at me funny, because ever since 9/11, it seems that no one can make fun of cops in NYC. I still thought it was a Kodak moment. Sue me.
The next thing I learned was that drunken mermaids like to show off their boobs. Actually, all of the mermaids seemed to enjoy it. It made me smile. Linda didn’t say anything, but I think she thought I was a perv. I just found the whole spectacle amusing.
We ended up walking around for hours, stopping once to eat and once for me to lose five bucks on a basketball game (it was rigged, I swear). At the end of the day, after spending an hour watching people on the boardwalk we dragged our tired, burnt asses to the train and went home.