MER-MAGICAL

And so the Mermaid Parade in Coney Island happened yesterday under gray skies and minimal drizzle. The dreary forecast could not dampen the spirits of the many mermaids, mermen, and other indistinguishable but scantily clad costumey-looking folks. Being a first-timer to this particular parade, I thought it appropriate to not only attend but to participate in the parade as a mermaid in the #1 float. This all couldn't have been possible without my super agent S.J. She's highly connected.

What follows is a brief recap of the day's events in case you were fool enough to skip out.

11 a.m. My fellow fishfolk and I arrive bright and early at Coney Island to try on our costumes for the first time, only a wee 2 hours before the parade commences. Thanks to the help of a few safety pins and a rush tank top purchase, we were raring to go. The fruit headpieces proved heavy and painful, much like having brain surgery while fully conscious. The actual mer-gear was not all that flattering as far as flattering mer-gear goes, but I can go with the flow and I flowed and flowed and flowed all over the Coney. By showtime, the mermaids were looking SHARP.

1:30 p.m. On our walk down to the actual float, we were stopped several times for photographs. As a relatively shy public person, this was a very new and strange experience for me. I mean, I know people want to stop me on the street in my non-mermaid gear and ask for a photo but the perma-hard look on my face dissuades them. (Usually this look is due to me concentrating on where I'm going and not getting lost rather than an actual hardness of heart. Usually, not always.)

2:15 p.m. Anyway, we arrive at our float, board, balloon up, and off we go for our three-block titilation of Coney Island. It was the greatest 6 minutes of my life thus far. Hands down. With a live drum band behind us -- literally, right behind us -- we felt the rhythm of the night as Gloria Estefan might say and felt it all over. The rains held off until our #1 float made it safely back to shore near the world-famous Cyclone. We were cheered and waved to and photographed and interviewed, and it was all strange and delicious.

2:24 p.m. Safely out of costume and lobotomy-inducing headpiece, we watched the other parade-goers from a rooftop. I can't even begin to describe the sights and sounds of the parade and later those along the boardwalk. It was all too much for one Shiny Penny to take in. It was beautiful in its oddness and in the amount of flesh (Shylock would have found his "pound of flesh" and then some.) that was exposed and overexposed and generally hanging out all over. Never have I seen so much skin since that one foray to South Beach, which is a very scary place indeed.

6 p.m. 45 minutes later thanks to the trusty D train and I'm back at the headquarters to refuel and unload what I can and cannot remember from a very vigorous day's events. I'm leaving quite a bit out here because I'm still in a bit of shock.

Did I mention we danced on this float? Yes, I danced. I can cut it. I shook my Carmen Miranda-like shoulders like Ricky Ricardo was in town. It was excellent. You should have been there. But maybe you're scared of rain and of having fun and of showing up and showing face. I'm just saying. I'm just slinging some Coney-style trash talk. 'Cause that's how we do it in the parade circuit.