Cha Cha's Coney Island Bar

With the new economic reality, you can forget about $500,000 summer rentals in the Hamptons. Fortunately for New Yorkers, a $2.00 subway ride will take you to Coney Island beach for a refreshing dip in the ocean, with the used condoms and Tampex tubes floating in the water with you.

It’s better than remaining in the sweltering city, though one reader recently compared it to taking a shit in your bathtub and then jumping in.

After a refreshing day of getting your feet all cut up by glass fragments and swimming in sewage, you can enjoy a languorous postprandial aperitif at Cha Cha’s Bar on the Coney Island boardwalk. Quite aside from the dramatic sunsets, which make the New Jersey oil refineries sparkle like gleaming jewels on the horizon, the panorama presents the romantic scenario of New York Dept.of Environmental Protection barges as they sail to-and-fro, transporting solid waste between Jamaica Bay and the East River, not to mention the enchanting fish fragrance emanating from the butts of the female bathers.

The companionship you’ll meet at Cha Cha’s is equally scintillating. As I was sitting at the bar, the girl next to me leaned over and discreetly whispered, “Don’t look now, but the guy next to me is playing with himself”.

“So what,” I said. “That has nothing to do with you”.

She responded demurely, “Yeah, but he’s using my hand to do it!”

Cha Cha’s is conveniently located between the Shoot The Freak attraction, where an insulting sideshow barker insolently invites passers-by to take potshots at a nut-job human target with a paintball gun as he scampers through a garbage-strewn lot, and a Nathan’s hot dog stand selling exorbitantly priced weenies to idiot retards and stinking up Cha Cha’s with the aroma of fried grease.

OK, it ain’t the Promenade des anglais on the French Riviera. Nevertheless, it has its advantages. The women there, who resemble the female gorillas in the Kongo exhibit at the Bronx Zoo, although with less body hair, are so desperate for money that if you poke a hole in a $20 bill and push your dick through it, they will blow you just to get closer to the money. Watch out, though, these broads have a lot of studs and rings embedded in their lips and tongues, and this, combined with protruding wires resulting from cheap dental work, can result in you organ being shredded like a meat grinder.

In addition to just getting blown, you can get laid as well. Once you do the deal, you just have to walk across the boardwalk to the beach. But as I previously pointed out, the sand is full of broken glass from drunken Russians from Brighton Beach who, after getting drunk on cheap Georgi vodka, celebrate by breaking the bottles like gleeful Cossacks who had just massacred a village full of Jews. That’s why it’s best to first prepare by setting aside a cardboard vegetable box, which are available by hunting around the alley behind the vegetable stalls on Brighton Beach Avenue, and stashing it under the boardwalk near Cha Cha’s for use as a mattress. Failing that, it’s preferable to be on top when you perform the sex act in the sand. That way, it’s your partner who ends up going to Coney Island Hospital for getting cut up. Another thing to be vigilant for is bedbugs in the sand which are brought there by underprivileged Brooklynites and lay in wait, hoping for a better home.

For those guys who prefer masculine companionship, no problem! Cha Cha’s has got a willing contingent of gay men, who actually cost a lot less. In fact, depending how ugly the guy is, he might even pay you!

Brooklyn being a multicultural community, it’s helpful to know a few words of Spanish to aid you in your conquest. One phrase that always comes in handy is that faithful old standby “Bicho en el culo”. This translates into “Dick in the ass”, and is always helpful in any transaction.

One last tip concerns Cha Cha’s bathroom, which makes the overflowing Porto-Sans at KeySpan Baseball Stadium shine like Schmuckingham Palace by comparison. You can forget all about toilet paper, just grab a fistful of cocktail napkins. The bathroom is for all sexes and the lock on the door is broken. Last time I took a leak there, a woman barged in and demanded if I was quite through. Since my cell phone was ringing, I asked her if she would hold my pecker, which was still pissing, while I answered the phone. She obliged, but after she had shook it dry, she asked me for a holding fee. Since the plumbing has a tendency to get stopped up, the toilet is prone to flooding, so, in order to avoid ending up floating in a pool of urine, it is advisable to wear platform shoes or, failing that, to wear rubber hip boots, which are available for a rental fee from the commercial fishing boats moored nearby in Sheepshead Bay.

Look, this is nasty. But if you are squeamish about any of the aforementioned details, the best thing would be for you to get the fuck out of New York City.

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Posted on 6/27/2009 ( Permanent Link )
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