Coney Island Ryan
There are Ryans. And then there are Ryans. Each more Ryan than the last.
In their constant pursuit of Ryaning, these Ryans attract various Ryanites. Ryan groupies, Ryan roadies, the names are different but it’s all the same: Loyal to their Ryans until the final Ryan has said their final Ryans.
But none were loyal to Coney Island Ryan.
Far from being the only Ryan on Coney Island, he was exclusive to the moniker. All he had to do was live there.
The reasons the Ryanites didn’t like Ryan couldn’t be condensed into a singularity. No “Ryan’s a cheap dick” or “Ryan is mean to cats.”
Nonetheless, Coney Island Ryan was a Ryan the Ryanites couldn’t put their finger on. And therefore couldn’t keep under their Ryanite thumbs. Coney Island Ryan remained an evasive enigma. And the Ryanites hated him for it.
They wanted to worship their Ryans in the settled Ryanite Way.
They weren’t going to deal with some Mystery Ryan. Some Ryan from Coney Island who walks the docks. Some nights.
If the Ryanites could not indoctrinate a Ryan they worshipped so fiercely, then Coney Island Ryan would forever remain a Ryan In Name Only.
And all because Ryanites moved at the speed of previous Ryans. As Coney Island Ryan zoomed past them. A social gazelle hurdling the norms and escaping the lionizing mores of the Ryanites.
Coney Island Ryan was nobody’s Ryan, and he had proven the Ryanites miserable. You couldn’t put this Ryan in a box, or merely label him ‘Ryan.’ His identity was his own and he did not subscribe to those externally applied.
The man loved a good time and small rollercoasters. And that’s about as Ryan as it got.
