Thankfully, I was never brought to this event as a kid, or as an adolescent/teenager, and as a sentient middle-aged adult-- sorry to those who relish it, or at least the "tradition" of it--- I can say there's absolutely nothing about the prospect of standing packed in tight like (the cliche is appropriate here) "sardines" in freezing winter weather, unable to get a drink, or micturate, or do ANYTHING other than watch the ball drop at midnight, yell out a welcome to the New Year, bid farewell to the old, and move as quickly as the crowds allow to where your car is parked so you can get the hell home, that appeals to me. Nothing.
Sounds like I never attended this event? Why am I reviewing it then?
Well, according to my birth mother, I WAS there before she actually knew she was pregnant with me. She and my birth father (she was 15; he was 16) went with another couple to see if the Times Square ball dropping was all it was cracked up to be. It wasn't. They froze, watched the ball drop, and left for home. So, technically speaking, you could say I was there. Before they left to return to NJ, my birth mother's girlfriend was groped by someone in the crowd.
Christmas can still have some nostalgic appeal for me if I'm in the right mood (and can throw me into a mild depression if I'm in the wrong mood, like recently; for the first time in years, I haven't gotten a Christmas card from my ex-girlfriend, who sent me one regularly every year out of some strange sense of duty or obligation, even though we haven't had any other contact since we broke up; maybe I'm not the resentful nihilist I think I am, but a sentimental fool at heart... anyway...), but I've just never gotten the appeal of New Year's celebrations in general or the Times Square one in particular. I don't have the faintest, remotest idea of what compels people to attend this. Or even to watch it on TV.
Then again...there are those who don't understand my fascination with historic cemeteries, my visitations to distant cities so I can wander down rows of tombstones, my unbridled enthusiasm at locating the final resting places of people as disparate as Al Capone and Malcolm X, so...I guess in some sense, I get it, and kind of understand...so...with that being said, have at it, my Yelp friends! Enjoy "roughing it" at the "crossroads of the world!" I'll pay my respects to Babe Ruth or James Cagney or John Dillinger during the daylight hours, and you can stand out in the icy darkness, wedged in elbow to elbow with the strangers on either side of you, tortured by the "dulcet" screeching...I mean, singing...of Mariah Carey (or maybe they'll have some other "star entertainment" scheduled for tonight...don't know...don't much care), staring up with sleepless, bloodshot eyes at the ball, that much vaunted ball!...waiting expectantly for it to drop...waiting...waiting...
Obviously, I won't be there, and I won't be watching it on TV at midnight either. I expect to be riding on the Unisom Express, right into the "arms of Morpheus," but to all my Yelp friends who WILL be up, and who DO care, have a very Happy New Year, and let's hope it's a damn sight better than the one we've just passed! And that I mean sincerely.
(As an aside...here I go off topic again!...thinking about New Year's Eve in Times Square tends to remind me of a time when I was much, much younger. I worked at a company in Ft. Lee, across the river from Manhattan. One of my co-workers was a much, much older guy from Queens who resembled Kharis the Mummy from the old Universal horror movies. He was a nice guy, but truly looked like a walking nightmare; I've heard he was a very hard drinker in his younger years, and that drinking had left its destructive mark on his physiognomy. Another employee, a middle aged Latino named Juan, got a certain inexplicable pleasure out of making "the kid"...me...laugh, usually at someone else's expense (I wasn't cruel, but I was immature). One New Year's Eve, we were all working, and I asked if anyone intended going to Times Square after work. Juan said, "Well, Eddie, Mr. B___ would like to go but he had a very bad experience when he attended last year. The crowd caught sight of him walking around, thought he was the Old Year going out, and they chased after him, tried to kill him...very nearly did..." Maybe my sense of humor is "inexplicable"...or maybe I was just a very, very immature "kid"...but the thought of Mr. B___ being chased down by an enraged "holiday crowd" intent on inflicting grievous bodily harm because they thought he was The Previous Year In The Flesh made me laugh unroariously, like I usually did at Juan's many so-called "jokes." Still does make me laugh, when I think of it now. I think even Mr. B___ laughed; he was always a good sport. So...if you're out there tonight, and you see Mr. B___ wandering around Times Square in the cold, please don't hurt him! Don't kill him! He's not the Old Year going out!)
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