Another Coney Summer

I go to Coney Island on Sunday’s in the summer, but never the beach itself…the sand nor the water. I’m sure this has something to do with it…

I went to the beach a few years ago, but forgot a chair or blanket, so I went to the Duane Reade on Ocean Parkway and Brighton Beach Avenue. I bought the cheapest and one of the last chairs they had. It may have been for a child, I have no idea, but what the hell, it would work.

I bought my Diet Coke, my SPF 30.

I was all set.

I set up the chair not too close but not too far from the other beach goers. I took a sip of the soda and put the can in the fancy drink holder that was built into the chair. I looked at the beautiful sky, the Atlantic before me, the. crowds in the water and all around the shore.

Ahh, My Brooklyn.

With this scene, I smiled and kinda leaned back and just fell into the chair.

Fell hard.

Too hard.

Big mistake.

The minute my ass hit the chair it buckled inwards and trapped me in a canvas and aluminum Venus Flytrap. The two armrests locked over my chest as the back of the chair pushed my head forwards towards the sand.

“WHAT THE FUCK??” is all I can remember saying…

Said it out loud too.

What do I do? Think Matt think.

I rolled from one side to the next, like a giant pasty white Irish American turtle with a blue canvas shell.

After a few attempts doing that to no avail, I was finally able to stand somewhat, but this chair was still very much a part of me. To make matters worse, the can had rolled out of its holder and landed right in the seat of chair and was spilling through the canvas, on to the sand.

As I managed to get one arm out, while still turning in circles, leaking brown fluid from where my ass was, I saw a Russian man walking towards me. He asked if I needed help in broken english.

All I could mutter, while wearing this chair like a straight jacket was…

“It’s just Diet Coke…”

So now I just drink on the Coney Boardwalk and watch life go by.

Picture © 2016 brookLens