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Inter-city diary by Cara Jones
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Tokyo - Los Angeles |
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| The Old Atlantic City Last week I told you about flying in to spend Father's Day with my parents, who are spending the summer in Atlantic City, New Jersey. Atlantic City is the gambling capital of the East Coast. (Las Vegas, of course, holds the same honor on the West.) Las Vegas is much older, and certainly more well-known internationally. I wonder how many of you have even heard of Atlantic City? When I was a child, we used to spend every summer in Atlantic City or its suburbs, Ventnor or Margate. Atlantic City (or "the shore", as we used to refer to it) is only an hour and a half from Philadelphia. My mother, too, used to spend every summer in Atlantic City when she was a child. When I was young, Atlantic City was a completely different place. It wasn't always the gambling capital of the east. The whole city used to be one big amusement park, devoted entirely to entertaining the children. Or so it seemed to me. There was, of course, the beach: Miles and miles of white sand, clear water, ice cream vendors who enticed kids with their cries of "Fudge-icle! Ice Cream Sandwiches! Ice Cream, get your ice cream here!". We would run screaming to our parents, begging them for a quarter to buy a sweet, cool, delicious ice cream. Mom would make picnics, and we would feast on hot, fresh, french fries and corn on the cob from vendors on the boardwalk (to this day, I think those were the best french fries I've ever eaten!). Oh, and the boardwalk! A seven mile stretch of ancient, creaky boards, running the length of Atlantic City all the way through neighboring Ventnor. We'd ride bikes, take long walks, some people would jog. Or skateboard. These days they rollerblade. The boardwalk was lined with game arcades. But remember, this was before video games. These arcades boasted pinball and other analog, old-fashioned fun machines -- all the bells and whistles your could possibly want for your dime. My favorite was "skeeball"! Skeeball is a game built like a miniature bowling lane, only the object is to roll your ball -- which is small like a baseball, but hard as a rock -- into pockets at the end of the lane. The higher, more difficult pockets earned you more points. And at the end of the game, the machine spit out a row of pink tickets which you could cash in for various prizes from the nice man at the counter. We kids used to love skeeball. We'd play and play and play all summer long. Then, right before we had to leave for Philadelphia, we would cash in all the tickets we had accumulated throughout the summer for the prize(s) of our choice. Each of us had his eye on a specific thing -- a toy or a stuffed animal that called to us, begging us to take it home. I still remember the rush I would get when, the day before the end of summer, I realized I had JUST enough tickets to buy my most desired prize. Now, that was fun! Oh, and I mustn't neglect to mention "Million Dollar Pier." Million Dollar Pier was a long pier that jutted out from the boardwalk in mid-Atlantic City. On it was the kind of amusement park that kids like us (who didn't often get to Disneyland) would dream about. There were roller coasters and ferris wheels; there was cotton candy and hot dogs. There was a house of mirrors, and a fun house! I loved the tea cup ride. (I know, I was a sissy!) But everyone's favorite guilty pleasure was "The Ape Girl!" I guess it was part of what you could call a "freak show", although there is wide speculation that most of the freakiness was faked. They had the "amazing bearded woman" and the "two-headed man". The barkers would call out the names of the attractions and tell all in earshot that this sight could not be missed. We were promised a peek at something so horrific we would certainly be telling the story to our grandchildren. The siren song of the barker (for me, anyway) was "The APE girl, the APE girl! See a human girl turn into an ape, right before your very eyes!" The barker would raise his voice whenever he said the word "ape" so that you couldn't miss it. I spent many summer hearing his cries, and listening in awe to the pre-recorded screams they played over the loudspeaker of the seemingly-horrified spectators of the previous show. I would beg my parents to let me see this wonder of creation. But they tried hard to protect me from what could be a disturbing vision, and I was not allowed to go. Finally, when I was in my teens, my uncle took me to see the Ape Girl. We were ushered into a dark room, and after being made to wait a suitable number of minutes, a teenage girl appeared on stage. She was far away, and the stage was not well-lit. (My memory of this is quite far away and poorly lit as well...) But after a short history of this girl's life narrated by some aspiring actor who never made it to Hollywood, the lights dimmed. Then they started to flash, strobe-like, so that you only had brief glimpses of the stage. But lo and behold, before your very (rapidly blinking) eyes, the girl started to metamorphose, slowly, into a horrible hairy creature. First, she grew hair on her face; then on her arms and hands. The lights flashed more frantically now, and before you knew it, a full-sized ape was standing on stage where, just minutes earlier, a girl no different from myself had been standing. After my "Ape Girl" experience -- the culmination of many years of expectation and fantasy -- I had done all I needed to do in Atlantic City. Within a few years, Atlantic City, like the young girl on stage, underwent a dramatic metamorphosis. The quaint little homes and hotels lining the boardwark disappeared and huge, monolithic, hotel resorts with casinos the size of small cities took their place. First there was Resorts; then there was an explosion. Steve Wynn and Donald Trump got into the game and gave Merv Griffin (owner of Resorts) a run for his money. The Golden Nugget, the Tropicana, Harrah's, Showboat, Ceasar's Palace and more. The amusement park that had been known as Million Dollar Pier was torn down and replaced by a shopping mall. The ice cream vendors on the beach waned in number. The french fries all but vanished. The arcades slowly disappeared from the boardwalk, only to be replaced by even more tee-shirt stores and redundant souvenir shops. This trip, I searched for a place to play skeeball and found only one -- with a measly four lanes instead of the ten or so they used to have. (It still cost only a quarter, though!) And here I have taken up my entire column telling you about the old Atlantic City, so I will have to continue the story of my trip next week. Til then.... In Atlantic City, Cara Jones |
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父の日を両親と一緒に過ごすため、飛行機でLAを飛び立った私。ふたりはニュージャージーのアトランティックシティでひと夏を過ごす予定なんです。ここまでは先週お話しましたよね。 翻訳:山本なむを
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・最新のキャラの日記を読みたいなら | ||
ナマ情報に触れられると大好評のワールド・ダイアリー。読者の方の声を聞いて、より掘り下げた記事をお送りするため、みなさんからの感想を募集中です。「今回のダイアリーのこれがとっても面 白かった」とか「キャラについて、もっとこんなこと、知りたい」といった質問も含めて、どしどしお送り下さい。 | |||
| 編集 荻村 | |||










