2nd Rida Shabaz, “The Ball Drop”

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 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

people in front and behind us. There was no way out now. We had a decent view but we were definitely on the farther end. 3 hours in, people began to get irritable. There were babies crying, couples arguing, men screaming at each other and a very overwhelming smell of marijuana. The smell was so strong I began to think It was affecting me too. People were constantly pushing up from behind and it was easy to cut since there was no clear line. By the fourth hour it started pouring and we all were trying to huddle underneath our jackets.

By the 5th hour it stopped raining and my feet were aching so much to the point where I just decided to drop down and sit on the ground. It was a different world down there. I could see hundreds of legs and some kid sitting down on their iPad. It was peaceful down there. I stayed down like that in intervals just to make sure I wouldn’t get ran over by the crowd behind me. As I was standing there, I thought to myself, “Everyone here has their own lives, their own problems, they came from all over the world, but we are all here today right now for the same reason.” It felt surreal to think about. I felt a strong sense of unity with these strangers whom I had no idea existed 5 hours ago.

There was only an hour left and by this point we were ready to go back to our hotel room but we stuck it through. The rapid conversations we were having during the first few hours, dialed down to silence and before we knew it there were just 30 seconds left on the countdown screen. Everyone was getting their phones and camera ready to capture the moment we’ve been waiting for. I anxiously looked up at the big screen and took my phone out. “3. 2. 1. HAPPY NEW YEAR!” Fireworks went off and we saw a sliver of the ball drop, couples kissed each other, people were hollering. Funny enough we had no idea what 2020 had in store for us. Although the fireworks were quite the view, I thought to myself, “so this was the big moment huh”.

As soon as the fireworks were over, everyone began to go their separate ways. We checked for the bag knowing it wouldn’t have been there and to no surprise, it was not. We began walking back at around midnight, all clutched on to each other and you can imagine what walking around New York City at midnight would be like and it was exactly that. There were drunk women coming out of a bar with short dresses in the chilly December weather, crackheads claiming they could see the future, rappers trying to sell their CD’s, homeless in every corner you looked, really all kinds of people. Our feet were aching so much that

we were running to get back and soon enough we were relieved to be back in our overpriced hotel room.

People say that seeing the ball drop in New York is a once in a lifetime experience, and I agree this was a once in a lifetime experience but not because I saw the ball drop, but because I stood for 6 hours to see barely the corner of it. This trip definitely taught me patience and not to idolize something because when it doesn’t meet your expectations, you’ll be disappointed. I don’t regret this experience at all, in fact the experience showed me pieces of the world which I only thought existed in the movies.

Rida Shahbaz—2nd Place, 9/10 Non-Fiction