The Smells of Coney Island

perrybaker316@yahoo.com

The Smells of Coney Island

By Perry Baker

Boom! Went the sound of the howitzer. Boom, Boom, Boom. Machine guns blasting and hand grenades exploding. What an exciting movie. I loved war movies. Especially movies of the Vietnam war.

I was sitting in the Marlboro movie theater with my dad Rocco. This theater was located on Fort Hamilton Parkway in Brooklyn, USA. My dad, who was eighty five years old, and I, who was sixty years old, loved to go to the movies together and watch war, mystery, crime dramas and many other genre of movies.

My dad had decided he wanted to get something to eat and drink from the concession stand located in the lobby of the theater. He grunted as he stood and nearly stumbled, but with the aid of his cane, he finally stood and went to the lobby. He came back with two large tubs of buttered pop-corn and two diet colas. At this time there was a lull in the movie and I took the pop-corn and diet coke and I started to eat and drink.

The smell of the buttered pop-corn brought me to reminiscing about my past. Since there wasn't action on the screen at this time, just a romantic part, I found that it was a good time to remember about my childhood; in particular about one day in Coney Island.

I was at the the Coney Island beach with my dad, mom and brother Jeff. It was a hot August day and we were all getting sun burnt; even with the sunscreen on. The sand was scratching between my toes as I laid on the blanket. I was twelve years old, Jeff was ten years old and my mom and dad were in their forties. We went to the beach a lot. For a few hours we would lie on the beach soaking up the rays, then we would go on the Coney Island pier to fish and crab. Jeff was an excellent fisherman and crabber. He learned everything from dad. I on the other hand didn't like to put the fish bait on the hook. I was screamish. Also I was afraid to pick up the blue claw crabs and the soft shell crabs from the crab trap because they could bite hard with their powerful claws.

Jeff was in the water while I was checking out a pretty teenage girl laying on a nearby blanket. My dad was buying some ice cold sodas from a hawker who went around with a red cooler selling his drinks. Mom was reading a True Romance magazine. The seagulls were crying and circling overhead looking for something to eat. We were planning on staying on the beach for another hour or so and we started getting hungry as well.

“Son, why don't you go back to the boardwalk and bring back some pop-corn?” dad said.

OK dad, just give me some money and I will go,” I replied.

Mom wouldn't hear of it, sending her boy all the way to the boardwalk to get some pop-corn.

“What if he gets lost?” mom exclaimed.

“Rocky is going to be thirteen soon, I am sure he can manage this little task,” dad said.

“Just be careful, and don't talk to strangers,” mom said.

Dad gave me a twenty dollar bill. He told me to buy two large buttered tubs of pop-corn; with extra butter. We would share the pop-corn.

So I put on my T shirt and flip flops and started the long trek to the Boardwalk. I put on my flip flops because the sand was hot. It took me all of three minutes to reach the boardwalk. I tried to remember where my family's blanket was, but the beach was crowded and I soon lost track of them.

Anyway, I climbed the wooden boardwalk stairs and looked for the concession stand that sold pop-corn. I could sure smell the buttered pop-corn. The scent was wafting across my nose. I walked closer to the concession stands. I saw it...pop-corn. The concession stand that sold the pop-corn was next to a bar. It was an open air bar that had musicians playing country/western music. I stood on the long line for the pop-corn. While I was waiting in line, I listened to and watched everything around me.

I enjoyed listening to the noises on the Boardwalk. The sounds were coming from everywhere. There were the two country/western singers singing a blues song. The song had a nice beat to it and I found myself tapping my flip flops to the sound of the beat. The two singers were men, in their late twenties and they had beards. They both wore cowboy boots and wore dungaree pants and colorful T shirts. They were standing in the middle of the “out-door” bar surrounded by men and woman drinking whiskey and beer. The line for the pop-corn was getting shorter; only five people in front of me. I turned around and looked at the thousands upon thousands of people walking the Boardwalk and on the beach.

POP, POP, POP, went the balloons! Next door to the pop-corn stand was a game where the players had to squirt water from a gun into the mouth of a clown. When the water went into the mouth a balloon filled up with air. Whoever shot the most water into the clowns mouth filled up the balloon the fastest and then the balloon popped and the winner received a stuffed animal.

The boardwalk was loud. There were game hawkers crying out into their loudspeakers enticing people to come play their games. I was mesmerized by all the sights and sounds.

“Can I help you young man?” asked the pop-corn concession stand attendant.

At first I didn't hear him for I was held in a trance by the sounds and sights. He asked me again.

I turned around and replied: “Two large tubs of buttered pop-corn; with extra butter please.

The attendant filled two giant tubs with freshly popped pop-corn and then he squirted an enormous amount of butter onto the pop-corn. I gave him the twenty dollar bill and he gave me eighteen dollars change. I thanked him and I walked back to the Boardwalk stairs holding two humongous tubs of pop-corn. Oh boy did that buttered pop-corn smell good.

I made my way to the stairs by walking around two mounted police officers. Their giant, muscular horses were standing in front of the Boardwalk stairs. I just walked around them and went down the Boardwalk stairs and onto the beach.

There were even more people on the beach now. Thousands of New Yorkers were streaming off the trains coming to Coney Island. I was getting confused by the multitudes of people on the beach playing volley ball, throwing Frisbees and lying on blankets and beach chairs soaking up the rays.

I walked down the beach towards the water, because this is where I remember my family's blanket was located. I looked for the jetty because our blanket was just to the right of the jetty. I looked and looked but I could not find them. I remember that during this time of confusion I smelled that beautiful and calming aroma of buttered pop-corn.

The sun was hot and blinding. I decided to walk a little towards the pier; maybe they were there.

Meanwhile my mother was getting paranoid.

“Where is Rocky? Where is my boy. I knew I shouldn't have let him go for that damn pop-corn.

“Don't worry Marie, he'll show up. He's a big boy,” dad said confidently.

“It had been been almost an hour since he left and I know something has happened to him,” mom cried.

I, on the other hand continued to look for my family on the red blanket. Nowhere to be seen. I looked and looked. The sun was hurting my head so I decided to go under the pier for some shade and to eat some of the pop-corn.

I walked under the pier to a spot that was about twenty feet from the water. It was a quiet, damp spot that smelled of urine. All of a sudden a Spanish man and his dog popped out from behind the pilings. The man was in his sixties with a messy beard, long graying hair and long dirty fingernails. He looked as if he hadn't showered of shaved in months. He was shirtless and had the tattoo: “Boricua” painted on his triceps. The dog that was with him was also ragged. It was a large black, shaggy dog and it was ferocious looking. I was scared of these two. I was so scared that I couldn't eat the pop-corn.

“Give me the money,” the man said to me in a heavily accented Spanish voice while pointing at the money sticking out of my pocket.

“It's not mine...it belongs to my dad,” I whimpered.

The man, who looked like he was living under the pier ran towards me and grabbed the eighteen dollars that was partially out of my pocket. The dog followed the man's lead and growled ferociously at me and was baring its fangs too. With my back against the piling I let the man have the money. The man also snatched one of the tubs of buttered popcorn as well.

I began to cry. I was terrified of this man and his snarling dog.

“Get out of here Gringo,” he yelled.

I threw the remaining tub of pop-corn on the sand and ran like hell.

I ran back towards the Boardwalk hoping to see those two mounted policemen. I reached the stairs and climbed them. There had to be a million people crowded on the Boardwalk. I could not see the mounted policemen or any other police officer for that matter.. By this time I was dizzy from the sun, the sights, and the noise. I just wanted to find my family and go home to my cozy house in Brooklyn, N.Y.

Just maybe, my family had decided to look for me on the pier. I walked towards the pier; I was still whimpering. I will never go off by myself again; no matter what my dad says.

So I am walking halfway up the pier, looking for my family. I don't see them. All I see is people crabbing and fishing. Hauling up these rectangular traps filled with blue claw and soft shell crabs. Many of them have buckets teeming with crabs. Some people are fishing. and they are catching baby blue fish called snappers, and porgies.

I am about halfway up the pier when I see the same Spanish man that robbed me with his black, shaggy dog sitting on the floor in the corner. He is sound asleep and there was an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on his lap. He was cold-stone-drunk. I got nervous, what if he should awaken...would he bother me?

Because I did not see my family I decided to leave. Then I heard a dreadful howl.

It was the Spanish man who was howling in pain. It seems that a fisherman was casting out his line when the sinker caught the Spanish man's head. The lead sinker was lodged into the back of the thief's head.

I walked closer because I was curious. There wasn't much blood but the whole sinker was inside the mans skull. The fisherman who cast out the line wrapped a towel around the man's head.

“Someone get an ambulance!” the fisherman cried out.

I ran as fast as I could back down the pier looking for help. Anyone, a police officer, a medic...someone who could help that man with the lead sinker embedded in his head. There were the same two mounted police officers at the base of the pier near the Steeple Chase Parachute Jump Tower. I ran up to them out of breath and said to the woman officer on the black horse: “Help, help, a man has been seriously injured on the pier. There is a fishing sinker stuck in his head.”

“Lead the way” the male officer on the brown horse said to me.

I ran all the way back to where the injured thief lay. By now there was a large crowd around him. The mounted police were right behind me. Both police officers dismounted and bent down to examine the injured man While the cops were looking at the thief's head, the thief saw me and recognized me and indicated with a finger to his lips that he didn't want me to tell the cops that he had robbed me.

The woman officer then took out her radio and called for an ambulance.

In about fifteen minutes a red and white ambulance came screaming up the pier. During those fifteen minutes the police officers were applying pressure to the injury and trying to keep the injured thief calm.

After the ambulance left with the thief in it, I began crying again, and I told the female mounted police officer that I was lost. The officers told me that they would call a patrol car to take me back to the police station.

Both police officers walked me back to the base of the pier to await the patrol car. In a few minutes a car arrived. I bid the mounted officers goodbye and got into the green and white patrol car.

It was a five minute ride to the police station. While I was in the station I saw all kinds of criminals brought in. Some were drunk, some were beat up, a woman was bruised and crying. There was a female sergeant behind the desk and she went into the back room and brought out a small cup of buttered pop-corn for me It smelled and tasted so good that I stopped my whimpering.

About an hour later, my family walked in.

“MOM, DAD, JEFF!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.

I ran to them and hugged my mother first, then dad, then my brother Jeff.

“Where have you been? I was searching and searching for you guys everywhere; on the beach on the Boardwalk and on the pier. I thought you left without me,” I said exuberantly.

“It's lucky you went to a police officer and they brought you here to the precinct,” said mom as she gave me another hug and kiss.

Just then the police dragged a prisoner through the front door. The prisoner was handcuffed behind his back. Lo and behold it was the same Spanish man who robbed me under the pier. He was drunk and he could barely walk. The two officers had to practically drag him to the sergeant's desk. The thief saw me and smiled, oh wow, he recognized me. I felt bad for him because his head was all bandaged and he smelled of urine. He must have recently pissed his pants.

When the officers reached the sergeant's desk they removed the handcuffs from the thief. I was about ten feet away, still standing with my family trying to listen to what was being said at the sergeant's desk. I overheard the arresting officer tell the sergeant that the prisoner had an outstanding warrant. The arresting officer emptied the thief's pockets onto the desk top. There was my eighteen dollars.

“That eighteen dollars that you just pulled from my pocket belongs to that young boy over there,” the thief slurred while pointing at me. “Maybe the boy could take the money and feed my dog. He'll be on the pier in the same spot as before.”

The arresting officer took the eighteen dollars and walked over to me and gave me the money. I saluted the thief and said “thanks”. I turned to my dad and said: “Here is your change from the pop-corn. I will tell you the whole story on our way home.”

My family and I walked out the front door of the police precinct with every intention of finding the thief's dog and feeding him.

**********************************

Fast forward twenty five year to Brooklyn's Marlborough movie theater:

The movie was over. The pop-corn was all gone but that delightful aroma lingered. The smell of the buttered pop-corn brought me back to Coney Island when I was twelve. My dad, who was now an old man stood with the aid of his cane and I led him out of the movie theater.

While we were walking back to the car, dad said to me: “You weren't very interested in the movie tonight. What was going through your mind. For awhile I thought you were asleep.”

I was just thinking back to that day we went to Coney Island twenty five years ago and we fed that homeless dog. Do you remember that day Pop?

Dad stopped and turned to me and smiled and said: “Like it was yesterday.”

The End