Christopher (front) and Nico sitting on the Pier of the Intrepid in New York
Series Story
"No, I wouldn't go to Times Square for New Year's Eve," said the man at a bar near World Trade One, "I mean, maybe, if they were dropping money instead of confetti, but other than that, no way! But that's just me. I hate dealing with people. And there are so many people there I would be miserable."
"How can you hate people?" I asked.
"I deal with hearing people's problems all day and pretend I'm interested. The last thing I want to do is rub elbows with other people in that soup bowl of Times Square. I ride in from Jersey. I don't want their problems to rub off on me. I get enough grief here. Anyhow, I'll be back with your drinks."
I watched him walk away. His muscular figure slowly faded into the dimly lit bar where he would enter our drink orders. Is a bartender allowed to hate people? If he wasn't interested in solving my problems, maybe the two red wines and a double shot of Makers Mark Whiskey would do the trick.
"Maybe he needs a drink himself," I thought to myself with a chuckle.
I was at O'Hara's Restaurant and Pub right next to World Trade 1, where the World Trade Buildings used to stand. After visiting the World Trade Center Memorial, my girlfriend, boys, and I decided to have a New Year's Eve meal. I contemplated visiting Times Square for New Year's Eve and watching the ball drop at midnight. It was only 5 hours until the big ball drop that would be seen from around the world, and my anxiety built into a frenzy about whether or not we should go tonight.
But I didn't scheme this idea during my seven-day visit to Manhattan. I have been thinking about Times Square since December 30, 2014. I was in Midtown Manhattan that day with my girlfriend after a drive up from Washington, D.C. She and I were amazed by the amount of energy from the people of an event still a day away. Besides, the electricity in the air. The atmosphere was intoxicating.
This feeling was more intense if you have ever attended a major sporting event. I kicked myself for not staying that night and just rode out the last day of December 31, 2014, into 2015. It was no coincidence that I was sitting here in New York one year later.
But this time, things were different than the year before because I was a year older, a few pounds heavier, and a tiny bit wiser. Also, I had my six and seven-year-old boys, Nico and Christopher, with me.
For the past two days leading up to this day, I tried everything to talk my way out of it. I asked waitstaff, police officers, average New Yorkers, people who don't speak English, and anyone willing to listen to me if I should go to Times Square for New Year's Eve. The most common answer from many locals was, "Dude, I live in New York, and I don't even go to Time Square when it's NOT New Year's Eve." Surprisingly, even the non-English speakers said the same thing.
I knew deep down those comments wouldn't deter me from this quest, but I couldn't shake this feeling of being a bad father for dragging those boys there. I feared that the million-person crowd would swallow my kids whole. Do I really go to New Year's Eve Times Square?
"I hear that the Brooklyn Bridge is nice to walk because, at midnight, all the fireworks can be seen throughout the surrounding areas," I told my traveling companion.
"Sounds safe," she said, "since when do you play it safe?"
She was right. I never played it safe. You're talking to a guy who won't wear a bicycle helmet. There was more to being spontaneous, adventurous, or a regular Crocodile Dundee! There was a responsibility to these children to keep them safe. Right?
Okay, Chris, stop trying to justify this to the reader. It already happened.
"The boys' I just can't. Let's just do the Brooklyn Bridge." This overthinking is exhausting.
I buried my face in my shepherd's pie and picked through the mashed potatoes to get to the meat. I was suppressing my urges. Maybe a Nike commercial would inspire me to "Just Do It."
"Time Square, hell ya," a man exclaimed.
I looked around when I heard that announcement. The joyous comment came from the person seated directly behind me. I stared at him. He was an older guy. He was sitting with another couple. He was nicely dressed, more than likely a person from money. They were sipping campaign while he thumbed his iPhone.
"Let's go to the Marriott; I just got a room," he said, "I just want to say I saw the ball drop in New York City. The room was only $500.00."
"I'll split that with you," I said.
"Really, that would be so generous of you. Okay, complete stranger, who I have never met. Grab your wife and kids, and let's head out."
"Sounds great!"
My girlfriend nudged my shoulder. "Don't stare. It's not polite."
My imagination was running away from me.
The bucket list check, the television history of Dick Clark, Ryan Seacrest, Anderson Cooper, Carson Daly, Kathy Griffin, oh my!
My passion was getting the best of me as I recalled being a kid and witnessing the history of Times Square and New Year's Eve from my living room.
This decision would be a challenging feat. The logistics of getting there alone 5 hours before the clock strikes midnight would be an adventure in itself. My loved ones have no idea about the swells of people waiting for them once we get off that subway train.
We didn't come all this way to play it safe. No, we're in the big city!
"Enough talking!" I announced, "Let's get our damn drinks, then head out!"
"No need to be so rude," the bartender quipped as he placed our drinks on the table.
"Er, no, I didn't umm..."
"Take your shot. Take 2 if you're headed to Time Square. You're going to need it.."
He may be right.
1,030 words
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Captain, Nico (left) and Christopher before the Intrepid Museum
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