February 8, 2016
I bought a Subway and Metro Card, and the timing couldn't have been more perfect. The train was there, and the doors were wide open. Inviting me to her to Times Square. The Gods were smiling down upon me. I was sure that we were doing the right thing.
The train was relatively quiet, and we sat in the middle of the car. My love to my left. The boys to my right. I tried to fit in like a New York resident so that I wouldn't be messed with by anyone who thought they could mess with a tourist. I carefully toyed with my emotions. I moved my face around as if trying to itch a scratch I could not reach.
"You're not from around here, are you?" A man said while his wife snuggled on his right arm.
My angry look quickly faded, and a smile crept onto my face.
"I'm that obvious, huh? What gave me away? My over-exaggerated facial features?"
"No, your Miami Marlins baseball hat," his wife said. Her face was buried in her husband's down winter coat sleeve, which muffled her voice. Her blue eyes pierced through like a chill through the air.
"Yeah, I didn't have a knit cap for my head, and this was in my bag," I told her. I felt rejected, removed the hat, and shoved it back into my bag.
The married couple and I talked very frankly about New Year's in New York.
"You're serious," the husband said. "You're taking your kids to Times Square for New Year's Eve night?"
"It was an idea for something to do while here tonight. We wandered around lower Manhattan. It was a ghost town done there."
"Why don't you go to Central Park? See the fireworks. That's where we are going. They do some nice things, and it's close to our home on the Upper East Side. You can be our guest."
"I appreciate the offer, but I have to do this. I'm so close to Time Square. This is my Bucket List moment and something my kids will never remember; I will remind them they were there with the 100 or so pictures I will take. This is my journey. I must leave you guys here."
The woman sat at attention. "Go and be well, my friend. Find your destiny and never look back," She said, extending her hand for an embrace.
Over the loudspeaker, warnings were said:
"50th, 59, and 60 stops are all canceled due to New Year's Eve celebration. Use other exits, people. This one or the others, just not those 3. I'm serious. And if you're crazy enough to get off at 42nd street, may God be with you."
We got off the train on 42nd.
"Be well, my friend," the man said. "I hope you find what you need to fulfill your soul."
"I will."
With my family in tow, I waded through the people as we made our pilgrimage topside. I walked up to the mid-level of the platform and noticed two NYPD cops standing at the first landing. Carefully, I approached them. My hands down, my head bowed.
"I'm a policeman and would like to know where I could see the ball drop out of harm's way."
I showed them my badge and waited for an answer.
"Look, buddy, we don't know where you can go. We're in the subway and will be stuck here all night. Go up and flash your badge to one of those guys. You could get lucky."
The officers bid me farewell, and we walked up the 26 steps toward the streets of New York. The energy, the people, and the power from the screens were just amazing. And we were way in front of the crowd. 1 million people stood in front of my family and hundreds of cops and barricades.
We were in front of the guardrails, holding back a million people. There were tons of security. Helicopters and planes were buzzing overhead. The music was playing like it was a rock concert. Roars from the people made me feel like a gladiator match was happening. It was pure adrenaline. And yet, I couldn't see shit.
At the security checkpoint, I approached an officer, "Hey, officer, here's my badge and identification; I'm a cop. Where is the best place to watch the ball drop tonight."
"You're in the front of the line, pal. You would have to walk back, and that ain't gonna happen. See that building," he said while pointing up, "that's where the ball is going to drop. You can't see that from here. But I got a perfect spot for you and your family. Come with me," he said. "Hey, Sarge, I got 4, so be right back."
He and another officer escorted us past a bunch of people in large corral-like boxes with ten to fifteen thousand people stuffed in each of them. The walkway was about 10 feet wide, separating each corral.
We stopped behind the entertainment stages and in front of the million people. The officer said while pointing around, "Here you go! The NYPD FDNY family and friends section. If you look straight up, there's the ball. Over there, you have your big jumbotrons, so you can watch the concerts behind you. Over there, you got the regular crowd. Do not leave your spot. You may not get back! Enjoy!"
Here I was, standing just outside the guardrails of the big show. We made it! We were right by the New Year's ball in front of the line in Times Square! A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. But it didn't last long. The security detail yelled at us to get in the guardrail areas so they could lock the box.
"We can stay along these railings, please," I implored.
"Just stay along these guardrails," he said.
The music was live. The action was like something you see in the movies. WE. WERE. IN. NEW. YORK. Time Square. I did it. Everything seemed almost perfect.
"Daddy, I have to go pee," Christopher said while tugging my jacket.
I have to go pee, too," Nico said.
"It's 10:20. Can you hold it for an hour or so, please," I pleaded.
They both looked at me and danced around, holding their pants.
"Dad, we aren't dancing to the music. We really have to go!"
I looked around briefly, thinking about allowing them to pee somewhere nearby. But there was no grass, no trash cans or bottles to spare. I grabbed them by hand and slid past the people piling in. I saw an officer in front of the giant screens playing a concert on stage.
"Officer, if we walked out of here so my kids could go pee, what were the chances of us getting back in."
"We are locking things down tighter because the ball is getting closer. You may not be allowed to be back in this area. Cross the entire street along these barricades and go to the restaurant where the other cop stands. Maybe they'll let you in."
"Across this way," I shouted over the music. "In front of these people and past that large stage?"
"Yea. Go for it. It's only the mayor and some other people."
So the boys and I cross the crowd of a million people between the guardrail and a gigantic Jumbotron. Some celebrities and dignitaries were taking pictures in front of it. I kept my head down and let the boys lead because I didn't want them to kick me out. But on occasion, I would look up and see them taking pictures.
"Oh look, Beyoncé."
But I kept my head down and kept going. I imagined someone looking at me and pointing, "Who is this guy! Why is he in this safety zone! Kick him out." Then, there goes my bucket list!
"Oh, de Blasio."
I went to the police officer guarding the entry/exit like a sentinel.
"Sarge, my boys, they gotta go. Can I go and come back?"
The music was thumping so hard I had no idea how these boys held their bladders.
"I doubt they're going to let you in. All these places have private parties up to $1,200.00 a pop!"
"Yo! Hey, hey, come here." A person waved to me from a door situated between two restaurants. "Bring your boys in here to use the bathroom."
I looked at the sergeant. He looked at me. "You're a cop, right? Go for it," he said. "If you come back and I'm still here, I'll let you back through."
This could have been more reassuring.
Everything within me began to shout, "Are you crazy!" But my sons were tap dancing. Beyonce's song "To the Left," which was blaring, sure persuaded me. They had to go badly. In my despair, I disappeared inside the building with the boys in tow. Damn, gotta love New York.
"Come on this way," he said with slurred speech. "I got kids, too," he said while balancing himself in the tight walk area.
"Us parents gotta help each other out, ya know," he belched. He brought us down a long, dark corridor. The music from the town square was muffled but still rattled the interior.
"We got pizza in here, and the kids will love it.
"Go inside here," he opened a door.
Inside the restaurant, people were hobnobbing and sipping champagne. Girls were half naked standing on the bar.
"Go ahead, there is a bathroom. Go for it. Just step inside. It's just a little nipples."
I looked around. What could happen? "Just go for it, Chris," I mumbled to myself.
We walked in about 15 feet. The door slammed behind us, and it startled me. The girl standing on the table kicked the half-full glasses on the ground, shattering them/
"Come on, baby, it's New Year's Eve," I hear a man plead.
We proceeded to go further, but my youngest son pulled me back.
"Let's go back, Daddy," Christopher said.
I started to walk backward, but I backed into a wall. I turned and realized it was no wall. It was one of the bouncers.
"You got your invite, sir?"
"Well, er," - I stammered, "Some really cool dude let us in so my boys could use the bathroom," I said.
"There's only one cool dude here. And that is me. And I am pretty sure I didn't let you in." I bent over and pointed into my chest.
"Cool dude," a man shouted!
"Get her off the bar!"
He stared at me. His eyes went soft. "Go on, get out of here. The bathroom isn't working anyhow. Too much confetti clogging it."
I was shown out the rear door and was nicely shoved out.
"Daddy, here it comes!"
Thankfully, next to the door was a Snapple bottle on the ground. Without hesitation, bending over and snagging the Snapple bottle off the ground. We stepped off to the side, and they peed in the bottle.
"This a tea Snapple, but now we are making Arnold Palmers."
After walking the labyrinth of the corridor, we made our way back out the same door from which we came. Damn, the sergeant was gone.
"No, I can't let you walk by that stage!" She shouted at me.
I pointed at the FDNY NYPD family and friends section. "I was just there. My family is still there," I said, "my boys had to pee. How would I even know where it was? Your sergeant was just here.
The officer ignored my pleas. Suddenly, I saw her right ear bend towards her radio. She talked into the mic and gave a thumbs up.
"Look there," she shouted and pointed. On the roof of the stage was the sergeant. I gave him a thumbs. I hope he was allowing me to cross again.
As we walked, I again attempted to look inconspicuous.
"Oh, there's Jay-Z," I bowed my head back down.
At about 11 o'clock, I had to put Christopher on my shoulders because the crowd was swelling. The metal guard rails were beginning to bow outward. My biggest fears were coming to fruition. My boys were going to be swallowed up.
"Place Nico on your leg," my love said.
I stood there for 45-50 minutes, and my whole body started shaking because I had both my kid's bodies on me. My shoulders weighed down and compressed my foot, which was balancing Nico, who apparently was so excited he fell asleep!
Finally, the moment had arrived. Mercy was about to fall upon me! New Year's 2016 was at hand.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2,1 Happy NEW YEAR!
The ball drops. It was incredible, fantastic! All the people just screamed and sang that Auld Lang Syne, which sounds like an Old Lang sign to me!
Frank Sinatra New York blasted afterward. But only after 2 minutes of glee was a seismic shift in the crowd. Like a tide, we were pushed without the opportunity to savor the moment. It was either moved or run over. We pushed past 3 levels of security before breaking free back into the streets of Manhattan. It was the running of the Bulls of Pamplona! Only this was drunk people.
We had done it. We had survived, and I was proud we had done so after everyone else had said we shouldn't. I am a little wiser now. If there is a next time, I may check out that bridge instead or get a room at the Marriot.
2016 is going to be a great year.
