Today was the last day that the historic Astroland amusement park would ever be open for business. Opened in 1962, and directly adjacent to the iconic Cyclone and Wonder Wheel, Astroland was truly one of the last great Coney Island experiences. I’ll readily admit that I’ve never been a huge fan of Coney Island. I was taken there once by my father when I was very small and we ate Nathan’s hotdogs and I was threatened with a ride on the Cyclone. I’m not a big thrill-ride person. Today, however, felt different.

Unlike the deserted memory of decaying nostalgia I had remembered from my youth the park was alive with a magical spark of enthusiasm that only New York can seem to muster. An energy that unites all walks of life in one fleeting moment in time. That’s where New York really shines. It’s the ability to bring people together for a shared experience and no other city does it as well. Kevin called me up and asked if I wanted to get together and have some hotdogs, maybe do some rides and I was all over it.

The line at Nathan’s stretched around the block and we must’ve waited a solid twenty minutes for hotdogs and rootbeer. After a quick look at the beach we headed in to the park, soaking up all of the sights and sounds. The wonder of a bygone era was reflected in the care with which those over-sized caricatured acroliths of the American subconscious were kept. Bright and new as the first morning they caught sunlight; silent gods of the midway.

According to Newsday Astroland will be just a memory, but the Wonder Wheel and Cyclone are fixed and immovable. A testament to the silent battle which rages constant in New York. Progress against the choir of historians, artists, elders and common people. These two silent titans duel just out of reach of the average New Yorker; the courts and boardrooms forming an amphitheatre of the one true North Eastern sport… Real Estate.

To be fair, I’ve never concerned myself much with the affairs of the bulldozer ballet set. When the West Side train yards were being considered for a stadium I couldn’t understand what was really at issue. I likewise couldn’t fully grasp the release felt when Cristo and Jean-Claude wrapped Central Park in bright orange like their own lovers’ gift on Christmas morning. This, however, has a face to me. I’m sorry that I didn’t pay more attention to it when I could have. I’m sorry that I didn’t speak my mind… or even have a mind to speak. whatever becomes of the former Astroland I can only hope that it has the same ability to cull from the masses the best aspects of all that is human experience. I hope that something of its ghost haunts the concrete and metal that will rise high where it once stood. I hope that Coney Island will always be as it was today; if in nothing more than in spirit.