I was in love with the woman with the smoker's croak. She was so confident. Gesturing with a ragged intonation, she explained to the young European couple that yes, Long Island beaches are better than Coney Island. Different, I thought even though I've never stepped foot on Coney. Just different. One is a kitschy county fair vibe and the other is a beach.
They nodded, and I could see that they really didn't have any questions for this woman. They weren't the NY tourist that latches onto strangers to make everything an experience. No, I could see that they were quite content to be within the world, the traveling world they created where every moment blossoms, cracked open with new spontaneous life, and they were happy to appear naïve for a second to lend a little bit of this to the eager Long Island-er.