The Greatest Day

Jason and I were reunited at Coney Island. There couldn’t be a more perfect setting. We planned to meet in front of Nathan’s. He called my cell phone and said, “Where are you?”
“Right here, in front of Nathan’s. Where are you?”
“I’m here.” We bumbled around, peering over heads until I caught sight of him. Good old Jason in his aviators and ragged prepster t-shirt, looking raffish and charming as ever.
“Jason!” I yelled, running toward him.
“Maaargaret,” he hollered back. Carolyn and Brian came lagging behind and they all ate hotdogs and I stole some of Jason’s fries, spearing them with a miniature plastic trident. Then we wandered over to the boardwalk basking in the tacky splendor. It was windy by the water as we admired the Wonder Wheel, the crashing waves, the freakish crowd and Jason said to us, “Today is the greatest day.”
We made our way over to a dive bar called Cha Cha’s where we were served beers by a bartender with magic marker eyeliner, sparkly lip gloss dripping off her mouth,and a dozen tattoos of hearts and roses littering her chest and arms. We sat outside and plotted adventures. We decided murder was the way to go and when Brian left to take a leak we picked him as our victim. Then we remembered we needed him to drive us home.
Once we’d finished our beers we wandered the boardwalk and spotted a crowd at the edge of the shore, including a handful of cops. We decided to investigate. What could it be? A drowning? A beached whale? A ship wreck? A fight? A drunk? Illegal use of water wings? Sea gull attack? The sea gulls were mammoth and fierce that day, so this seemed likely. We siddled over and saw a confused baby seal squirming in the sand. The fuzzy little guy was gazing up at the crowd nervously. He looked like a cute little puppy dog with no ears, no tail, and no legs.
“This is the greatest day ever!” Jason said again. We watched the thing wiggle about helplessly for a while as the NYPD ordered everyone to stay back. The five officers were a very necessary presence as without them the rambunctious crowd would have undoubtedly petted the cute little thing to death. Myself included.
We went back to the board walk and happened upon a band setting up. The bass player, drummer, and rhythm guitar were all Hell’s Angel’s, the lead guitarist by contrast looked like Jerry Garcia, the harmonica player was a Jersey girl in a long polyester gown. When the lead singer took the stage we knew we were in for something good. She was a slightly haggard, sun damaged blond wearing a cowboy hat, a low cut black gown with a slit up the side, one red elbow length glove, and thigh high white boots. As the sun set she belted out Let your freak flag fly, striking poses as the wind whipped through her hair. The greatest day ever.