My friend and I were eager to see the ball drop on December 31st night. We set out of our home in Mount Vernon East around 6:00p.m., made it to the train station and rode it all the way to Grand Central in New York City. It was bitterly cold that evening, colder than I’d ever felt, and winter was yet to arrive.
I had dreamed about doing something like this for years. This was one of my earliest trips to the USA, so I was still a novice on things. But watching the ball drop in Times Square was a dream I needed to make happen.
The city was in chaos when we got off the train and made our way out of the station. The city was bursting to the brim, teaming with New Yorkers and foreigners from all over; apparently, everybody was there to witness the same thing. Everyone was decked in parkas, winter jackets, hoodies, and thick shoes. It hadn’t begun to snow yet, but on the weather report declared that was coming soon.
Several avenues were closed. Cops manned road-block stands deterring anyone from passing through. We joined the crowd and walked down West 42nd Street to Times Square. It felt like we were part of a chain gang; I started wishing we had taken our time before coming.
There was a bursting crowd there, and it was tough getting through onto Broadway. We made it to a Burger joint and filled our stomachs for the long night. The sun was out, but it was frigging cold; the sun looked like it wasn’t going anywhere.
Eventually, the sun dipped beyond the skyscrapers and vanished, replaced by a starry night. There was bright lights and Christmas décor all around. My friend and I returned to the streets, waiting. We talked, we joked about how cold it was, and laughed. It was fun seeing my breath turn to vapor before my eyes. We exchanged greetings with other people who were there to see the ball drop.
Time passed, and the crowd grew larger, more frenetic. There was music playing, but it seemed to come from everywhere. The hours went by and yet we continued to wait.
Like that, the inevitable hour arrived. I could barely see much from where I stood, and like everyone else, I had my phone out, taking snapshots. The resounding countdown noise was eloquently clear.
“FIVE! . . . FOUR! . . . THREE! . . . TWO! . . . ONE! . . . HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!”
You could hear the scream for miles. Fireworks exploded into the sky; confetti rained on our heads. People hugged and cheered; couples held each other and shared passionate kisses; enemies kissed friends, and friends celebrated with enemies.
Peace reigned briefly upon the world. It was beautiful.
Then came time to leave, and that was a struggle going with the crowd. It was non-stop bumping and grinding as we returned to Grand Central. There wasn’t a direct train to Mount Vernon, so we joined one heading to Harlem, and made two more stops before arriving at our station. It was 02:37 a.m. when we returned home. neither of us slept much. We made tea and talked for hours, mostly about what we hoped the New Year would bring.
It had begun to snow by the time we laid our heads to sleep.
HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!
PhilOyok 