Under Atlantic

In torrential rain, I went down a manhole in the middle of Atlantic Avenue. The purpose? To embark on a subterranean tour of Brooklyn, in the dark. Back in the 80's, a guy called Bob developed an obsession with rediscovering the world's first subway, which lay buried beneath the boroughs for more than 100 years. He's just started taking people down again, after being shut down (by the government, man!) for almost a decade. Check out his website. I also learned a new word: spelunking (the recreational sport of exploring caves).

Bike porn

I know it doesn't sound like a good combo. But there was this thing. It was organized. And I didn't have a bike. So I rented the equivalent of a big fuck-off Cadillac for a day. All white. No gears. I took it on the subway, and so many 'blinged' men commented I was starting to wonder whether I was going to get jumped for it. In any case, I made it from Astoria to Fort Greene without losing it, and making new friends along the way.

Outside the Bohemian Beer Garden in Astoria, Queens. The image doesn't quite capture the full 'pimpness' of my ride, but use your imagination people!

The route we took carried us through mostly run-down industrial areas.

Beer in giant styrofoam cups, goes well with a game of BuckHunter.

And final destination: Habana Outpost. A market/eating and drinking venue that is open only 3 months a year. Recipe as follows: take an empty lot, put some colorful umbrellas in it, serve that delicious Cuban BBQ corn, let people pay less if they make they're own frozen margaritas by using an exercise bike to power the blenders, and that about does it. A fitting finale to a perfect summer day in NYC.

Problem: bored at work?

Solution: fashion a costume around the theme of 'fake moustache'. Works every time.

Serra show

Richard Serra's sculpture is showing at MOMA right now. All I have to say is: Picnic at Hanging Rock redone in steel. Amazing.
And a whimsical wall of drawings by Dan Perjovschi, also on at MOMA.

Foot long phallic beverage

A morbid curiosity surrounds Coney Island. My morbid curiosity. Sunshine, 50 year old amusement rides, clams, carnies, dirty beach, home of the World Championship Hot Dog Eating Contest (and it's giant LCD countdown) - how many more reasons did I need? Just one: Coney is being demolished to make way for a new 'rich young thang' seaside getaway. More apartments, anyone?

Take Brighton, take Blackpool (they don't even have nice weather), but please don't take Coney. I still have concussion from the world's scariest rollercoaster. Or perhaps it was the foot long pina coladas.

The aforementioned ahem's.

No, it's not Guantanamo. It's the line-up for The Cyclone - a very old rollercoaster, now designated National Trust landmark.