My Adventures In New York City

I was in my late twenties, young and virile, an unconventional but wholesome lad, more at home in Levis and a tee shirt than a Brooks Brothers suit.
I longed to see New York City; Manhattan Island, Central Park, Washington Square... the theater district, yo, the big apple.
On this particular sunny morning I was about to fulfill my dream. My sweet dalmation pup, 'Coon dog', and I were cruising up the East Coast Highway, stars in our eyes, the wind at our backs.
"Broadway", the exit sign said.
"This is it", I told Coon-Dog, up the ramp, and onto Broadway.
Our hearts began to sink (at least mine did); no bright lights, no heart-wrenching excitement, just a dull city street.
It was like being back in Chicago (..which is not bad, but still..), just a grey ol' street; stores, businesses.. what happened?
Well, as it turned out we had landed on Broadway, an average street, in Milpedas, New Jersey. The bright lights were still a half hour away!

Coon Dog and I did make it to Manhatten, and were properly and verily thrilled, 42nd Street, Sardis, but the best was yet to come.

A few days went by. The car was parked, my sweet puppy entrenched in a (very expensive) hotel room.
I set out to explore; I rode the subway to Far Rockaway, the end of the line.
The New York subway is a story in itself; multiple levels of underground trains, dressed to the nines in hi-style graffitti (The graffitti writers are called 'writers') and filled to the seams with a myriad of New Yorkers.

I rode to the end of the line, Far Rockaway. It's a beach, on the ocean, with boardwalks, two story wooden arcades, sand, sunshine, cotton candy... an amusement park ferris wheel in the misty far distance; lots of fun!
I'm a Chicagoan, yo, a Chicagoan in New York! Chicagoans are walkers, and I've always been a great walker. I trod the length of the boardwalk, across the hot sand, to the waters edge, and on to the right, dressed in shorts (levi's), a sleeveless T-shirt, tennis shoes, and ready to walk.

I trod on for what must have been half or three-quarters of a mile, and came upon a short wire fence; skirted it, and yo, the nudie beach!
In the nude section, the men stand up, in all their glory; the women prefer to sit, or lay back to enjoy the sun.
Everywhere I looked, naked people. New Yorkers are very free and alive!

I settled in not far from a young couple, in their early twenties. At one point the young lady stood, pulled on her undie bottoms, and visited the refreshment stand (it later turned out, the nude section has it's own parking). She came back, slipped off the undies, and continued enjoying the day.
After a while in the sun I grabbed a cab for home.
The New York Cabbie said, "I see you found the Nudie Beach!"
Yup! I sure did.
What a great day!
Johnny (and Coon Dog)