Taking an hour long subway ride to Coney Island to go on a walk seemed to defeat the purpose of the Walk Out philosophy. Despite this, I arrived at Brighton Beach, a pocket of Russian and Ukrainian émigrés that borders the Coney Island neighborhood, ready for an urban hike. The deep blue Atlantic was visible from the subway station. It was the day of the annual Mermaid Parade, Coney Island's answer to the Mardi Gras, and I planned to see all of it by walking down the famous boardwalk from Brighton Beach to the ruins of Steeplechase Park a few miles away.

Coney Island was known for many years as "Sodom by the Sea," a place where New Yorkers have gone for decades to get away from the city without really leaving it. Over the years it has shifted from a classy resort to a plebian carnival to a dangerous crime ridden area ruled by gangs. After this summer though, the Island will be entirely rezoned and there are plans to turn Astroland Amusement Park into luxury condos and a hotel.

Every year, the Coney Island Mermaid Parade takes place the first Saturday of summer, and the day long bacchanalia is one of the most famous and over-the-top events that occurs on the Island. With the looming specter of mass redevelopment, I knew I had to see it before everything changed.

Walking down the boardwalk, the iconic Parachute Jump loomed bigger and bigger, and I realized I was approaching the chaos of Coney during the Mermaid Parade. The Soviet men in track suits playing checkers yielded to female pirates and scantily clad male mermaids. Photographers (myself included) swarmed any oddly dressed participant like paparazzi—be it the woman with a fish head bra or a Steve Irwin impersonator, complete with a stuffed Manta Ray.

It seemed like every type of New Yorker was on the beach that day; hipsters with vintage sailor suits sat right next to large Mexican families, a woman in a full burka was only a few feet away from another wearing a bikini. No matter who they are, they were all there for a similar reason: the island offers New York a brush with nature that is hard to find throughout the rest of the city. Despite the overwhelming artificiality of the amusement parks and fried food, Coney Island is where New York ends and the natural world begins. I understood now why so many people swarmed this small space over the past hundred plus years.

As I retraced my steps later that day, I couldn't help but wonder if there was room for a place like Coney Island in modern New York. In a city that squeezes out every last square foot into some kind of new development, Coney and the mermaids seem destined to slip back into the Atlantic. Still, there's something to be said for a place where everyone is allowed to hang loose and be outdoors at the same time. Some would call that hedonistic, but I call it healthy living: a perfect balance between both extremes.

Peter Schellhorn

Dobbs Ferry, NY