I love Coney Island. I don't love it, too.  It takes an hour to get out there, and there's never a G train to connect to on the way home. It's loud and sandy, and all the food is terrible for you. There's all these new rides out there. But it takes an hour to get there, and if you ride the Q train you get to see really interesting platforms and views. And the beach is full of characters, and Nathan's cheese fries are delicious.  And there's new stuff out there. It's all good and bad and everything in between. 

I moved to Brooklyn just about four years ago. It's an amazing transition, moving to New York. Things and people feel superbright, like neon flashing signs of New York Importance, for a long, long time after you move in. It's exhilarating, and also exhausting. I was feeling a little worn out from all the awesomeness of New York a few weeks after I moved, and that's when E. took me to my first Brooklyn Cyclones game. We sat in the stands, burning our faces off because we forgot sunscreen, and I ate a pretzel and looked at the great mass of Brooklynites cheering on their minor league team and I thought, "Yeah, this is home."  

Brooklyn, America.  I love it now more than I did then, even more than I ever could have imagined.