There is, surprisingly often, a cemetery.

Not at all surprising. There used to be many more cemetery stations; a lot of them were request-only stops, and have been eliminated. There even used to be funeral trains.

Oh, I see, that was a preview. Anyway. Coney Island. I was astonished at how enormous the complex was. It was, of course, built by separate transit companies to serve an earlier iteration of Six Flags, and each line had to have room for train storage and multiple discharge platforms and turnarounds. And when I was there, late 80s, most of it was disused, like a gigantic closed amusement park of its own.

I saw this earlier today, it IS cool and very interesting.

Okay, the priest who proposes a virgin grape stomping festival is really fucking creepy.

We happen to live at the N/W last stop at Ditmars. I know that guy who sings and flaps his hands. I never knew his name, though. Harold. He seems like a Harold. There is, indeed, a Last Stop Cafe. They make pretty good pasta, and garlic knots. Really the street's like so many other streets.

Two nice things about being at the last stop: You always get a seat in the morning, and it's difficult to sleep through your stop in the afternoon.

It's a beautifully written article.

Head and shoulders above what you usually read in The Times these days.

Thank you very much for posting that, LT.

Fun read, thank you.