A Stroll Along the Boards

In honor of my favorite place in the world, a short nonfiction piece for your summer enjoyment!

A STROLL ALONG THE BOARDS

by Lynn Polin

          The swinging seats at the top of the brightly lit Ferris wheel pop against the dark sky and I know that I’m getting closer.  With each step I take the dings and buzzes of the arcade games become louder and more intense.  The ground changes from cement to boards of old worn wood.  I climb the initial ascent and can feel the metamorphosis of the breeze from semi-warm to cool, and I stretch my arms through the lined sleeves of my gray sweater.  I get to the top and smile – there is no place better.

         The aroma of salty air immediately makes its way through my nostrils and down to my toes, sending a feeling of calmness throughout me.  I head right into a sea of synchronized heads bobbing up and down as they too take an evening stroll along the shoreline.  I first pass Wonderland, the amusement park of choice for kids and their sun-burned parents who stand in line for ride tickets and pass the time by checking their cell phones.  The upbeat, cheerful song of the carousel contrasts the frightened shrills of a youngster who has obviously tackled his first roller coaster unsuccessfully.  The quick blinking of red and blue lights of the helicopter ride are adjacent to the crisp white cotton candy stand that is lined with pink and blue balls of sugar wrapped pristinely in clear plastic, hanging just so to entice all who pass.  Then comes a chorus of sobs from overly-tired children whose parents pry their fingers from the railings and try to reassure them with “We’ll be back tomorrow,” but to no avail. 

      I dodge strollers, wheelchairs and patrolmen on bikes and continue my leisurely stroll down the splintered boards, the echoes of the bells and whistles of the arcade becoming distant. The pungent smells of fried dough and powdered sugar slap me in the face and pull me in like a hooked fish.  I find my spot in line behind an elderly woman who looks like she and her shiny purple cane have stood in this same line many times before.   I pay and hold tightly onto the thin, cheap white napkins as the ocean breeze gains a bit of strength and battles me for them.  I skillfully pick off my first piece of sugary-goodness paying careful attention that every inch is covered with white powder.  The freshly-fried dough warms my fingers first and then my tongue.  The first bite gives me the energy to make my way across the crowd of teens in too-short skirts and too-bare stomachs, past the endless signs for “Free Hermit Crabs with Cage Purchase” and by the stores with high-flying kites shaped like rocket ships and rainbow fish and finally to a half-opened bench facing the ocean waves hitting the now-empty beaches.  I close my eyes and am hypnotized by the repetitive hums of the water crashing, receding, and then coming forth again and everything else takes a back seat in my mind as I find myself at peace in my most favorite place.