Monday was a holiday.

What to do, what to do, what to do…

We had seen all the interesting movies, no matinees on Broadway, no new museum exhibits.

A longstanding item on the bucket list was checking out Brighton Beach, Coney Island and Sheepshead Bay.

Why?

Who knows, but like a dangling participle, it was out there.

Courtny did a drive by at 9am and we headed out to catch the B Train…first stop, Sheepshead Bay.

The journey was about 45 minutes and the train was empty, the trip pleasant.

We sauntered on over to Emmons Avenue, Sheepshead’s main drag which runs along the bay.

I had been told that the area was picturesque, but I have to imagine my advisors were either vision impaired or never leave home.

We walked several miles towards the ocean and the aesthetic didn’t get any better so we hung a Louie, crossing a wooden bridge that spanned the inlet…that was the most compelling part of the stroll.

Next stop…Brighton Beach.

Upon arrival, our first reaction was that Brighton Beach appeared frozen in time with the elevated trains, Russian retail shops, ethnic restaurants and senior living centers.

We found a Starbucks and had to endure Trump supporters blathering on about leftist views and unemployment.

They are waiting for the messiah to take charge…good luck with that, you delusional ass wipes.

And, word to the wise, grab that Obamacare before it is dissolved because it is always beneficial to have teeth to fill your pie hole.

We cut over to the boardwalk which ran along the beach and hightailed it to Coney Island.

Coney Island is definitely stuck in a time warp.

I was actually amazed how expansive the amusement park is with Thunderbolt and Cyclone looming over the entire area.

We passed by the original Nathan’s Famous, a hot dog institution for over 100 years.

Nearby is the hot dog eating Hall of Fame, proudly displaying the latest champion, Joey Chestnut’s photo, along with other past winners.

That is an exhibit one cannot afford to miss.

We parked ourselves on a bench and took in the beauty of the Atlantic Ocean, the endless, deserted beachfront and old fashioned wooden boardwalk.

This is what makes Coney Island noteworthy.

I do believe we identified the home base of the DNC and Election Day hackers as every male pedestrian who stomped by looked the part of a Russian spy.

We took the train back from the enormous Coney Island station.

The subway runs on the elevated rails for half the trip, providing panoramic views on a gorgeous winter day.

I firmly commit to never returning to the area, but we clocked 7 vigorous miles and had a damn entertaining family excursion.