Tag Archives: coney island
“um no, not really.”
he hands us a small sized bag from within his bag, identical to the one covering his tall boy of cours light.
“uh thank you,” i respond, covering up the same labeled can in my hand.
“you know that it is a 25 dollar ticket if you get stopped by the police with open beer?”
“wow that is like a deal where we come from.” jessica and i look at each other and nod in agreement.
we all sit on our benches and take a few sips looking out over the water. taking in its horizon.
“you know if you want to find an interesting time you could go down to the public court house. there is always a lot of action there. you don’t even need the ticket.”
“oh ya. i guess that is an idea,” i reply, looking over my shoulder at the tattooed russian hoodlums playing hand ball in cages, glistening with sweat. we sat there and finished our beers as night fell around us. i was quite happy where i was, this place was nutty enough for me.