New Years in the city
One of my absolute favorite parts of living in a city without a car is that I don’t have to worry about parking. Parking is the bane of my existence. While I understand the concept of parallel parking, I’ve never actually done it successfully. In fact, I failed my first driving test because I scraped against another car while attempting this fete. And when I retook the test, they didn’t ask me to try parallel parking again. To be fair, I’ve been a capable driver for 26 years without the need to parallel park.
When my friends and I went out for New Year’s Eve, we had someone drop us off downtown (which is only about a mile away). There were a lot of activities concentrated down by the waterfront, so we hoofed it around to see them all. The colors were amazing. From the lighted banyans and the shadow projections to the glowing labyrinth, the neon “LOVE” sign and the fire juggler… It was like a circus atmosphere.
We walked a few blocks to a bar mid-way through the night to quench our thirst for the customary New Year’s Eve alcohol ingestion. This is a part of the night I wished the next morning that I’d skipped. Apparently they were using the cheapest vodka on the planet and pouring it very liberally. At least that’s what my aching noggin told me.
But I digress. After the bar, we hustled back down to the waterfront to watch the second and last fireworks display of the night. We were on the street in a throng of people when the countdown started. 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year! I found a handsome stranger, asked him if he was there alone, and proceeded to give him a big hug and a peck on the lips. My night was complete.
Instead of calling for a ride home at 12:30 a.m., we decided to meander home on foot. It was a lovely night, and we chatted among ourselves as we breathed in the fresh night air. There is nothing quite like being able to walk home after a night out for New Years in the city.