Lots and LOTS of fireworks going on throughout the day. Supposedly these are used to drive away evil. Didn't get much nap time during these days...
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While on the subject of fireworks, this is NEW YEAR'S DAY, 2025! Happy New Year everyone.
I never was one to celebrate the New Year much on New Year's Eve. Don't like to stay up late, and never liked loud fireworks, which pretty much rules out the celebration. But one year, on a lark, I decided to visit Times Square to experience the New Year's Eve thing there, complete with vast crowd and ball drop. It was 1982.
I took the train from Wilmington, DE, up to Manhattan, arriving at Grand Central Station in the late afternoon. Though a small-town country boy at heart, I've always enjoyed the marvel of visiting the biggest city in the U.S., so looked forward to this new adventure. At the time I didn't know there was a name to it, but this was the classic bucket-list item.
I'd been in Manhattan a time or two before, so pretty much knew my way around. Arriving at a relatively early time, I decided to make the trek to the Square on foot instead of taking the subway. It was COLD to this Texan! In reality it wouldn't have been very cold to a New Yorker, as the lowest temp that night came down to 39 degrees, but I braced myself for the long stint outdoors.
It was about 4:00 when I arrived at the intersection of Broadway and 7th Avenue. There was an energy in the air as the slowly-building crowd anticipated this huge party that was to take place in a few hours. I passed the time by revisiting some old haunts and shopping for a cheap place to eat. The streets were already blocked to traffic, and the only vehicles within the perimeter were press vans setting up for broadcast. Soon enough the winter sun set to the west, and the dark of night enveloped the city. The time was drawing near.
After dark, things started to heat up. There was some drunkenness and urination in the alleyways, but mostly festive partyers ramping up to match the energy and mood of the evening. Lots of weird hats and glasses, strangers blasting those party horns in each others' faces. It was contagious, and I was gradually swept into the tide, wishing passers-by a happy 1983. The cameras started rolling and I was briefly interviewed - very much in passing - by a CBS crew, but doubt it made air.
By 11:00 the party was in full swing. I don't like crowds, but inserted myself right into the thick of it just to see what it was like. Answer: a little bit scary. The drunkenness increased, and whenever a fight broke out a wave of people radiated from the epicenter of the violence to make room for the combatants until the cops came and broke it up. This happened several times, and was fascinating to watch.
So the magic hour neared, and I continued to watch this mass of humanity as it whipped into an orgy of drunken celebration. Mostly I held my ears for the noise, but occasionally would respond to a stranger's shouted well-wishes with like gusto. By the time the ball dropped I was hoarse in my determination to make the most of the moment.
It was about now that I met a friend. A guy close to my age wondered by wearing a backpack that was fully loaded. We struck up a conversation, and learned that neither liked crowds but were there for basically the same reason, to check off the experience as a once-in-a-lifetime thing. He was from Florida and passing through. For about a half hour we sort of stuck to one another for the companionship and, frankly, protection from the worst of the elements surrounding us. After the ball dropped, when things were at their loudest and most raucous we looked at each other with the same thought, "Let's get out of here!" The Square still had a crowd of a half-million or more, and we wanted to beat it out of there before the post-party subway rush.
But where to go? I wasn't ready to go back to Delaware, and this guy seemed in no hurry to go anywhere, so we decided to go someplace interesting that we'd heard of but never before visited. Now where in Manhattan would that be? Any place away from this throng would have been suitable. After a minute thinking about it, I suggested that we head north to HARLEM. Yes, Harlem! My backpacked friend must have been crazy, but readily agreed, so down we went into the subway to go to Harlem in the middle of the night.
Likely due to our unlikely destination, the subway cars weren't crowded at all. I wanted to go straight into the heart of it, so we emerged at 125th and Lenox Avenue into the eerie, quiet streets of the neighborhood. By this time it was nearing 1:00 a.m., and we were surprised that no one was out and about. Hmmm. What do we do now? We're in Harlem and it doesn't seem dangerous, so let's look around some.
We stayed on Lenox because the wide boulevard seemed safer, and walked about three blocks south to about 122nd Street. On our way there we passed a small group of Black youths congregated near a stoop talking to each other. There was a polite exchange of greetings as we passed. In spite of his fully loaded backpack, neither my Florida friend nor I felt any fear whatsoever during this entire excursion; the predominate feeling was one of relief at being away from the crowd and noise in the Square.
OK, so we've seen something of Harlem and it was anticlimactic at best, so time to head back, as the crowds likely were somewhat dissipated by then. We headed back up Lenox to our subway stop, then zipped south back to Times Square, which was much less crowded by then. In fact, it was so comparatively empty that the overnight cleaning crews were already sweeping the abundant trash off the streets. My Florida friend and I said our good-bye's, I went to Grand Central to catch one of the extra late-night trains back to Wilmington, and ended up at home on 6 Broadbent by about 4:30 a.m.
Upon reflection, I wonder about that guy from Florida. Was this chap a real Floridian passing through that unlikely setting? Or was he an angel sent to protect me from my own bad judgment? Either way it must've been a God thing, else the night could have had a very different ending...
