< topography - Coney Island



12, Surf/boardwalk
Coney Island
[A beach for the people produces a bar for the people, or so it seems. "Big Red/ Car Service/ 449-3333," says the red-ink sign inside the door, and there are others such as 'we are open year-round' and 'bathrooms for customers only.' I spotted this "liquor bar" (sic) from the apogee of the Wonder Wheel; the perfection of this discovery-situation leaves description  almost pointless. Permit me to pressurize this 'almost'... Even before joining a rousing round-robin of Cabaret Voltaire, nodding down the bar at O**—in time to the Doors ("oh, show me the way to the next whiskey bar")—nearly explodes my pleasure receptors, so I watch the tender painstakingly examine my 20, hoping perhaps to add it to the collection of counterfeit bills taped to the mirror; he compensates for his suspicion and his plastic-cup poor-pour (definitely order sans rocks) by setting me up with a buy-back after two drinks. Inactive televisions outnumber the afternoon patrons, who smell of salt and sea and motor grease. Maybe they'll let me take one of those huge inflatable Bud Light baseballs hanging from the ceiling down to the beach. Maybe not. Who cares? This is my new favorite bar in The City.]


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Brooklyn/Coney Island