Last Saturday, Coney Island saw its big annual, flamboyant wave of mermaid fins, glitter, body paint, pasties, wigs, feathers, sequins, fake eyelashes, and bedazzled spirits. It was the Mermaid Parade. And hundreds did not miss the chance to rejoice in the start of summer by flaunting their creativity down Surf Avenue.
The tradition started as a tribute to Mardi Gras. Held in an area known for amusement, carnies and freak shows, it has morphed throughout the years to become the celebration it is today: an excuse for wild souls (and meek ones) to glue tassels on their tits and have at it.
The tradition started as a tribute to Mardi Gras. Held in an area known for amusement, carnies and freak shows, it has morphed throughout the years to become the celebration it is today: an excuse for wild souls (and meek ones) to glue tassels on their tits and have at it.
Later that same day after scarfing down Nathan's hotdogs, was the Bubble Battle, another peculiar annual event done in New York for the hell of it. The "warriors" bring bubble guns and other bubble-making contraptions to a different location each year, and then it's every man for himself.
It's a trippy feeling actually, to be encased in bubbles. You feel like you're in the middle of one of those movie dream sequences, but then you snap out of it with the need to create your own bubbles and pop others.
I have to ask: Do New Yorkers get so easily bored that they must throw random group events with silly concepts throughout the year? From the start of 2011 alone, you could have ridden the subway in your panties, pillow fought in Union Square, walked the entire rim of Manhattan, ridden your bike naked, and battled foes with weaker bubble guns than yours.
Whatever it is, I'm just glad to not live in a town where the most whimsical thing you'll see is another fat person wearing her underwear in Walmart.




