I was trying to figure out the bill at Yummy Sushi when the clock struck 12. Happy New Year, we're $10 short and the edamame wasn't actually complimentary.
Every New Year's Eve, I look forward to the countdown, the anticipation of ringing in the new year with family and friends and sparkly confetti. I like that for one minute the entire world (or at least those in your time zone) counts in unison, waiting for a new year to bring about new happiness, new goals, new-ness.
This year, while at Yummy Sushi, an arbitrary Japanese restaurant in the West Village, I sporadically checked my phone for the time. I am usually compulsive about watching the time on Dec. 31st, but no one in the restaurant seemed to care about the symbolic night; the waiters were busy handing out little bowls of wasabi and the diners were busy not eating it. The last time I had checked, it was 11:53. There was still plenty of time before midnight. Our bill came, and we began fumbling for dollar bills and trying to figure out why it cost so much.
Bianca poked my right shoulder. "Rucha, it's midnight." I waved her away, now trying to calculate some tip. "Rucha, it's the New Year. Look, everyone is screaming and kissing on the street."
I looked out the window. The streets were littered with streamers and couples. I looked at my cell phone. I had about 3 new text messages, and my sister was calling me, as we had promised each other we would do right at midnight. I was partly upset because I wanted to be the first one to call (it was a contest in my head), partly upset because I had no confetti to throw, and partly upset because we still hadn't paid tip. But most of all, I was upset because I missed it. It was 12:01, and the New Year had just eluded me.
There was no anticipation, no hoping, no squeezing anyone's hand. We waited for nothing, no one, before the moment had crept past us. Nothing was special, nothing was different. It just was. It happened. It was a night like any other. It was 2010. I was with the same beautiful friends I was with throughout 2009. I still hate cream puffs and boiled eggs; I still love spinach and lychee juice. My sister still wins Best Dressed. I still love family vacations. My hair is still unsure if it wants to be curly or straight. And besides fulfilling my few New Year's resolutions, I want nothing more than that feeling of waiting for nothing--not midnight, not 2010, not anything new. I am here. We have arrived. It's 2010, and everything already looks sparkly.
Every New Year's Eve, I look forward to the countdown, the anticipation of ringing in the new year with family and friends and sparkly confetti. I like that for one minute the entire world (or at least those in your time zone) counts in unison, waiting for a new year to bring about new happiness, new goals, new-ness.
This year, while at Yummy Sushi, an arbitrary Japanese restaurant in the West Village, I sporadically checked my phone for the time. I am usually compulsive about watching the time on Dec. 31st, but no one in the restaurant seemed to care about the symbolic night; the waiters were busy handing out little bowls of wasabi and the diners were busy not eating it. The last time I had checked, it was 11:53. There was still plenty of time before midnight. Our bill came, and we began fumbling for dollar bills and trying to figure out why it cost so much.
Bianca poked my right shoulder. "Rucha, it's midnight." I waved her away, now trying to calculate some tip. "Rucha, it's the New Year. Look, everyone is screaming and kissing on the street."
I looked out the window. The streets were littered with streamers and couples. I looked at my cell phone. I had about 3 new text messages, and my sister was calling me, as we had promised each other we would do right at midnight. I was partly upset because I wanted to be the first one to call (it was a contest in my head), partly upset because I had no confetti to throw, and partly upset because we still hadn't paid tip. But most of all, I was upset because I missed it. It was 12:01, and the New Year had just eluded me.
There was no anticipation, no hoping, no squeezing anyone's hand. We waited for nothing, no one, before the moment had crept past us. Nothing was special, nothing was different. It just was. It happened. It was a night like any other. It was 2010. I was with the same beautiful friends I was with throughout 2009. I still hate cream puffs and boiled eggs; I still love spinach and lychee juice. My sister still wins Best Dressed. I still love family vacations. My hair is still unsure if it wants to be curly or straight. And besides fulfilling my few New Year's resolutions, I want nothing more than that feeling of waiting for nothing--not midnight, not 2010, not anything new. I am here. We have arrived. It's 2010, and everything already looks sparkly.
You need to be an author. Do you write columns for any publications?
ReplyDeleteaww thank you! no, I don't write any columns or anything
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