Summertime is fast approaching and I can't help but fall into a trance thinking about getting some sand in my shoes (ala Johnny Cash). As a New Yorker, when I hear the word summertime, I find it synonymous with Nathan's Famous Hot Dogs and it's wonderful Coney Island backdrop. Flashes of walking the boardwalk on a hot blistering day, while hearing the violent screams of frightened folks on the Cyclone Rollercoaster ride nearby sparks up immediate nastalgia. All my fellow Brooklynites know EXACTLY what I speak of when I mention the nauseating horror that is the Pirate Ship. What seems like an innocent fun-loving ride is actually a vomit-inducing monster. Last summer I decided to partake in some Pirate Ship madness (with my haggy Denise) in the scorching heat. Back and forth it went...and forth came the vomit. Nausea set in, but Dee convinced me to hop on the Cyclone for a night cap. Suffice it to say, as I exited the white poorly painted gates of this fierce wooden ride, I spewed all my freshly digested Nathan's in every direction possible. I even frightened an old lady who was standing close to my sickening demise. I love Coney Island. How can you not?