The Ball Drop I peered my eyes open and there it was. The green sign with a white outline that said “Midtown Tun Manhattan.” The streets were overflowing with traffic, everyone rushing to see the ball drop on New Year’s Eve. We had already arrived much later than we planned to because I forgot my notso-stuffed animal (which I can’t sleep without even at the age of 15) in the hotel we were staying at in Boston. I only realized halfway through the drive which delayed us by a solid 2 hours. As we drove into “the city that never sleeps”, my eyes were glued to the tainted windows of my mother’s Cadillac. It looked just like how it was in the movies. Yellow cars speeding down Manhattan, traffic lights which seemed invisible to pedestrians, skyscraper buildings, and far in the distance you could spot the Statue of Liberty. Our car being the size of a school bus, it was difficult to get through the tight streets of New York City. We probably passed our hotel 7 times before actually finding it. At this point it was around 6:00pm and people were everywhere making their way down to Times Square to stand for 6 hours with a shitty view of the
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corner of where the ball was supposed to drop. As we settled into our $1000 hotel room for ONE night, my dad grabbed his bag and we all made our way towards this “once in a lifetime experience.” Walking through New York City itself felt surreal. There was a little boy who looked about 8- or 9-years old breakdancing like a prodigy. Talent existed in every corner you looked and that was the most beautiful thing about the city. After asking 3 different officers for directions, we finally arrived with hundreds of people trying to get through the barricade. There were officers taking bags and slowly letting people through. Shit. All of our things were in my dad’s bag along with the fact that this very bag was especially important because it was the bag my dad took with him when he passed his medical exams. A sacrifice had to be made and there was no guarantee that the bag would still be there 6 hours later. (Spoiler alert) It wasn’t. Some homeless man is probably enjoying that bag thanks to my dad’s sacrifice for us to see the ball drop that midnight. 1 hour in it wasn’t too bad and we seemed to be moving forwards, casually conversing to one another. 2 hours in we were debating whether or not we should go back but it was too late. We were sandwiched between hundreds of
