And then we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and it was hot and lovely and took only half the time the internet said it would.
And then we got lost in Brooklyn and got lost again and found a train and tried to make a connection and got lost again and then found the train to Coney Island and that was almost better than finding Coney Island itself. Except that the train didn't have freaks, and Coney Island did.
also hot dogs
The freak show was super, with a fire-eater and a sword-eater and a hypnotist and a KNIFE-THROWER WHO SET A GUINNESS RECORD WHILE WE WATCHED (the Guinness guy was there and everything) by throwing 78 knives in a Ladder of Death around TWO girls in less than a minute. I know. The knife-thrower was the most impressive but also the most watched-through-fingers-due-to-terror-and-liveness-of-show-and-potential-for-actual-death.
And then as we were darting out to the beach to dip our feet in the Atlantic (or whatever) we heard a caller for a $2 freak show and amigos? You get what you pay for. The woman was turrrrrible. A boring performer, a stumbling banterer, a 'Hey guys, do you want me to stomp on this box full of glass? Cause I'll do it. I'll...hey guys! Guys! I'll do it, don't think I wont!' We finally gave up all hope on it getting better (i.e. her leaving the stage) and consoled ourselves with Bekah's first funnel cake.
nothing a little deep-fried sugar can't cure
And then we went home and bought some apples at the market and the market-guy told us we were going to kill all the mens, and we were like, What? No! And he was like, Because you have all much beauty! And we were like, Ahhhh, yes. Well. And then we felt uncomfortable and went home to bed.