A gritty, beautiful, birthplace of dreams, Coney Island sits in the furthest reaches of Brooklyn on the Atlantic Ocean. Like a Siren, there is something alluring about this small ribbon of sand that has called to New Yorkers since the 1800s. In many ways the rise and fall and rise and fall of Coney Island is a story of the American Dream and the promise of the great city of New York. If you board the N train where it begins in Astoria, the bustling neighborhood in Queens that Layla and I, and Between the Sheets call home, and travel through the heart of Manhattan, across the East River on the Manhattan Bridge, through Gowanus and Sunset Park, through Fort Hamilton and Gravesend to Stillwell Avenue where the rails meet the sand, you have reached Coney Island.