New Year’s Eve

We watched the sun set over Manhattan from the Queens bound N train. The train clattered and shrieked along its elevated platform as we rattled towards the end of the line in Astoria. It was completely dark as we walked down the Greek dominated streets of Astoria towards Karissa’s home. There were countless bakeries emitting tempting smells of freshly baked cupcakes, gingerbread, and fruit tarts onto the street. The fish market restaurant was busy (according to Karissa it’s always busy) on this New Year’s Eve night.

Her apartment lies in the basement of a quiet residential street in Astoria, eight blocks from the end of the line of the N train. It was cozy inside and we settled in trying to figure out the New Year’s plan. Everyone’s dream, it seems, is to be at Times Square when the ball drops. We formulated our plan around trying to see the ball early, and find a place to hang out and stay there until midnight because according to Karissa’s friends, “it’s a terrible idea to bar hop on New Year’s.” According to Eli, “New Year’s is a great time to ride the subway. Everyone’s happy.” We were armed with these pieces of advice as we ventured out into the night.

Back on the N train, we commuted to mid town Manhattan where we sat watching people in fancy party outfits, skirts that barely covered their bottoms, three inch heels, and emo clothes load and unload to their respective parties. When we arrived in mid town I was instantly amazed by the deceptive quiet. This part of town is constantly flashing, covered in tourists, and loud. While there were thousands of people in the 10 radius blocks around Times Square, no one seemed to be speaking or moving. There was an unnatural hush. Karissa looked at me and said, “Oh just you wait, it won’t stay quiet for long.”

We followed the rush of people trying to make their way to see the ball. I walked along trying to figure out why everyone makes such a big deal out of New Year’s anyway. All people seem to do is get dressed in outrageous clothes, go to some party, get drunk and try to make out with some person. Or maybe that’s what we always think people are doing. My New Year’s eves normally consist of going to a movie or wishing I had some place to go out to while my parents and their friends eat roasted chestnuts and shrimp cocktail and put together puzzles at home. Well, now was my chance to see what New Yorkers do.

After following the crowd ever further uptown away from Times Square, Karissa, Emily, and I decided to give up. It wasn’t worth walking to 55^th then 59^th then 65^th then who knows where to try to see a ball we wouldn’t be able to see from that far away. It was time to move onto the next part of the plan. Karissa steered us to 9^th Ave and away from the crowd where we walked looking for a cool pub to hang out in until midnight. Luck was with us as we found the Snug, a little chill bar on 9^th Ave with no cover fee. But, before long we migrated to a new locale, even though Karissa had been explicitly informed by every friend “not to bar hop on New Year’s Eve!” The other bar was a sport’s bar and needless to say, we returned to the Snug with 45 minutes to spare.

The Snug was packed with all sorts of people as the final half hour ticked by. The bar tenders handed out party hats and noise makers in preparation for the madness. Instantly, the bar was full of loud hoots, shrieks, toots, and crackling noises as people tried out their respective noise makers. Girls went into the boys bathrooms when the line for the girl potty backed up so far the call of nature took over.

Finally, the final two minutes approached. The crowd went wild blowing on their noise makers and shouting, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!” The ball began to drop, celebrating its 100^th year of existence. “10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…. HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd in the Snug exclaimed. The three of us stood and laughed as people began downing champagne, jumping in the air, kissing their significant others or whoever else was around, and crying joyfully about the New Year. Old Langs Ain began playing and people drunkenly tried to sing along. Their attempts were noble, but we didn’t stick around to hear them. It was time to head for the subway.

On our walk there, we passed by separate groups of people hollering happily, “HAPPY F****** NEW YEAR! HAPPY M***** F****** NEW YEAR!” Hell yeah! Other groups were unhappily crying and screaming at each other saying, “I can’t BELIEVE you kissed her!!!!!!” “Well, you went off with TOM!” Bad idea. New Year’s ruined. Not smart to randomly kiss people. Hopefully the rest of the year kicks off better for them.

Finally we reached the Columbus Circle A train stop and I descended into the unnatural tube to get transported back to Brooklyn. New Year’s hats, sound makers, and smiling people surrounded me on the train. So this is how New Yorkers celebrate, I thought. Right on, “Happy F****** New Year indeed!”

Wishing you a very happy and fruitful 2008! It's gonna be great in 2008!