Bubbles and Sandcastles

The man with the telephoto camera smiled at me and squeezed my shoulder.

“What is it about bubbles that we love so much?” he asked as he walked by.

This wasn’t a rhetorical question, as the air around us was filled with soapy spheres, courtesy of The Bubble Girls, two women who dress up in outrageously colorful outfits and make all kinds of magic happen with wands and water.

They’ve been making regular appearances at the Bay Ridge Summer Stroll, a series of street fares, where long stretches of Third Avenue are closed to traffic so that local merchants, artists and others can set up shop outdoors.

There’s a lot of music and dancing and food, but The Bubble Girls are my favorite attraction by far.

The Bubble Girls are like glassblowers, who create massive, fragile figures that float overhead like spirits or alien life forms. They’re composers who work with bubbles instead of music.

Yeah, I know. What the hell is wrong with me? Why am I obsessing over bubbles like a five-year-old?

Must be something in the air.

And to think I almost missed out on all this fun. I had planned to stay home on this particular evening—big surprise—until I reminded myself that the Summer Stroll is a short distance from my house, and it takes place out-freaking doors.

You won’t be able to do this in January, my inner yenta raged. Get your ass up to Third Avenue.

My sister and I caught the Bubble Girls’ performance again on Friday night—the last Summer Stroll of the year-- and the following day we took a rattling ride on the N train out to Coney Island to see the 31st Annual Sand Sculpting Contest.

Sand's Best Friend

I went to this event a few years ago and I could not believe what people are capable of creating with sand and a little water.

Sea turtles seemed to be popular this year, and we also spotted a shark, a dog with a bone and a sand-version of Jabba the Hutt.

It was terribly humid on Saturday, so we curtailed any plans to travel up and down the boardwalk in favor of lunch at a nearby watering hole.

We winced at the heavy metal music howling out of the sound system, but at least the place had air conditioning and plenty of water.

And just as we got ready to leave, we were hit with more water in the form of a freak thunderstorm that cleared Surf Avenue like a gunslinger in an old western movie.

When we finally got to the beach, I noticed there weren’t as many competitors in the sand scuplting contest as there had been in previous years. I suspect the hideous humidity and the ruthless rain played a role in this.

Nevertheless, it was a great day at the beach, and it wouldn’t be summer without at least one trip to Coney Island.

So, what is it about bubbles that we love so much? Maybe we love sandcastles for the same reasons.

They both come from common sources—sand or soap—they’re elaborate, beautiful, and so fragile. They bring us so much joy, they make us feel young, and they allow us to forget our problems for a little while.

And then they’re gone.

Summer is almost over. The days are getting shorter and one of my co-workers said she saw Halloween cards in her local drugstore.

I know that this is how life works yet it seems so unfair.

Like bubbles and sandcastles, I want summer to last forever.