Staycation continues as we go Into The Woods and then pop our Coney Island cherries

Read about the first half of our Memorial Day Weekend staycation.

Staycation: Day 3 (Sunday, 5/26)

Like yesterday, I spent the morning drifting in and out of consciousness until about noon time when I forced my bloated body out of bed.  I popped a handful of antacids and vowed not to eat my way through the day as I had yesterday.  Stumbling into the living room, an empty box of macarons from last night's gorge-fest sat empty, mocking me and my Buddha belly.

Tonight we had tickets to Fiasco Theater's acclaimed production of Into the Woods at the McCarter Theatre in Princeton.  To break up the drive, Trish and I decided to indulge in some retail therapy at Jackson Premium Outlets.  If I couldn't satisfy my unfulfilled emotional life with empty (but delicious) calories, I'd feed it instead with bargain Gap tees!

Sadly, the lure of the living room couch proved stronger than the need to sate my consumerist appetite.  So instead of jumping in the car to do some damage to my credit card, Trish and I basked in our laziness, wasting the rest of the afternoon lounging in our jammies and watching TV.  We procrastinated until the last minute and then scrambled to shower and change or risk arriving late to the theatre.  Thankfully, the drive to Princeton was uneventful and we arrived at the gorgeous Ivy League campus with plenty of time to spare.

You can read my detailed review here.  But Fiasco's production of Into the Woods was easily the most cleverly staged productions I've seen in years.  Every bit of stage action was well thought out, concise and meaningful - no extraneous bits or self-referential jibes.  It was, and I don't think I've ever said this about any show, a perfect production of this material.

Staycation: Day 4 (Monday, 5/27)

Still a Coney Island virgin after 20-years in NYC (I moved to the city in August 1993 to study opera at Manhattan School of Music), I decided it was finally time for a little outer borough exploration.  With our staycation coming to a close, we gave Trish's car the day off since Coney Island is conveniently located on the opposite end of our subway line.  Getting there would be cheap, super convenient and easy - or so we thought.

We're 2 stops from the end of the N line in Queens.  Coney Island is the last stop in Brooklyn.  That leaves a mere 42 stops in between!  Sounds like the perfect opportunity to take a nice, long nap in air conditioned comfort, right?  Wrong.  As we pulled into 42nd Street the conductor announced that due to "debris on the tracks," there would be no N train service to or from Brooklyn (think about that before you toss your gum wrapper on the tracks).  So much for convenient and easy.

Instead of a direct ride, we ended up transferring to the 2 train and then transferring back to the N train in Brooklyn after bypassing the aforementioned "debris."  After 2 hours, we had managed to travel the 19 miles to Coney Island.  That's about 9.5 mph (an elite marathon runner can average about 12.5-13 mph).  Go MTA!

The unusually large crowd (especially for mid-morning on a weekday) waiting to transfer back to the N train at Atlantic Avenue was not amused with the day's subway issues.  Apparently, our plan to celebrate Memorial Day at Coney Island wasn't so original after all.

Thankful to see sunlight after our 2-hour subway imprisonment, Trish and I were all smiles.  We strike a pose on the Boardwalk after navigating past the throngs of tourists and assorted shady characters heading toward the beach.  There  must be something about surf and sand that naturally attracts the white (and black and brown) trash contingent.

Our first stop along the boardwalk was Luna Park's Scream Zone.   Aptly named, since the thrill rides here are a stomach-churning notch above your average amusement park fare.  Though famished, we decided it best to wait until after being catapulted 150 feet into the air in a tiny steel cage before sating our hunger for fear of showering the crowd with the chunky contents of our stomachs.  For actual footage of Trish and I squealing and laughing inside the slingshot ride cage, check out the video on Trish's facebook page.

That extra jolt of adrenaline sure ramped up our appetites.  And since this is Coney Island, how could we not make the pilgrimage to iconic Nathan's for a double dose of heartburn in a bun.  Trish opted for the traditional cheese dog while I decided to test the strength of my stomach lining with a bacon cheeseburger.  Both sandwiches were surprisingly delish, with that authentic grill flavor which, incidentally, lingers on your palate well after you've packed up and left the boardwalk, if you know what I mean.  I'm not sure if either sandwich was actually worth the one hour wait in line, but when in Rome...

We people-watched and digested or meal along this sandy stretch of beach front.  Hard to believe we're in New York City. 

For our farewell ride we opted for something a bit less thrilling.  We thought this swing ride, with a nice view of the Cyclone in the background, would be just the ticket.  Oh, how looks can be deceiving.  With just a loose bar across our waists, it seemed at any moment we would be flung from our seats to a bloody death on the macadam below.  This pic doesn't show it (here they're just lowering riders back to the ground), but the ride lifts you 100 feet in the air and then spins you quite a bit faster than you'd imagine.  Not for the faint of heart, as Trish's panicked screams indicated.