Staten Island: From Shaolin to Schicki Micki
Staten Island. That's right. I did it. All of it. From St. George to T-Ville. 40 something miles on the bike. And I made it back without bronzed skin, nasty accents, or noticeable STDs. Consider the day a victory!
I got a later start than I wanted, having to wait out a storm and the lingering effects of a hangover. This meant I had to bypass the stop at Snug Harbor on my way to Denino's. I'll make Snug Harbor next trip. I'll also make Denino's next trip, since the "best pizza place on the island" stopped serving slices at 3:00pm (and I wasn't about to buy a whole pie). Always nice to have something to look forward to!
Backtracking across the rough roads of the North Shore, I passed by the smells of homelessness in St. George and curved south to Stapleton, home of the Stapleton Houses. It takes a lot to rattle my nerves, and the Stapleton Houses did just that. These were the projects that once housed the Wu-Tang Clan, and man, were they rough! It felt like a prison; outdoor passageways covered by chain-link fences, a child talking about having to show his wee-wee to someone, and heavy eyes centered on the foreigner. There weren't many bikes in the projects. Not many white people either. Needless to say, I kinda stuck out.
Slightly unsettled, I carried on up the road through the Park Hill Projects. They spread out like a cancer. I tried to escape, ut instead would turn down another canyon of brown concrete and perfect sightlines to the mansions on the hills. Paranoia grew within me, thinking it was obvious I didn't know where I was going and that I would shortly be jumped right there in broad daylight. With another turn, I had escaped the projects, a fate not all share unfortunately.
I wound down to the disappointing South Beach and it's boardwalk - I guess there's a reason I had never heard of it before. Then began the slow ascent into Staten Island royalty. Up the steep hill of 4 Corners Road, and around the slippery corners of Benedict Road featuring the McMansions that give Staten Island it's name. Back down the roads slickened by the abundant natural spring-water run-off, through the dense forests, and finally, to a lighthouse, because, well, why not put a lighthouse as far inland as you can.
Further down the hill to Richmond Town and it's kitschy historical reenactments and the beautiful Church of St Andrew, site of a Revolutionary War battle and resting place of soldiers. Through the lush paths of Latourette Park, only to be spit out at the Staten Island Mall. Across the way was the Fresh Kills Dump (and soon to be park). I wanted nothing more than to ride through the area, but if was unfortunately heavily defended.
With dusk looming, a hunger brewing, and a very real fear of missing that evening's last ferry, I made my way down to Killmeyer's Old Bavarian Inn - the oldest tavern on Staten Island! Where they missed on the food (my schnitzel is much better), they nailed on the atmosphere. The clientele also gave SI the good name it deserves.
After dinner, I still had a little adventure in me and took a short ride down to Conference House Park and the end of New York State. It might as well have been the end of the world, with it's suburban houses and fireflies and cars. Brooklyn was calling me back. I followed her siren to the train and eventually to the ferry, where I basically had the ship to myself. Apt considering it's my city.