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Dec. 27, 2009 My father always said: “If you truly want to experience the real America, you have to experience New York.” I always thought that was probably untrue, until I went to New York. The first time for me was 1998, for New Year’s Eve. The experience arose from a verbal promise that I tried to follow. The prior New Year’s Eve in 1997, I found myself half-drunk and dancing salsa at The Orleans in Las Vegas. A group of my friends and I had gone the day before to celebrate New Year’s Eve that year. We didn’t want to do “the strip” thing, so we ended up in some Salsa Party with a live band at Orleans. It was actually a lot of fun and we met some very “happening and loud party people.” That evening, four of us closest college buddies made a verbal promise to each other. This year was Vegas, next year New York’s Times Square, and the following year, the millennium Y2K celebration, Brazil. Yes, Brazil! To us, it was “The Party Capital of the Planet, The Carnival of Rio De Janeiro”. I still to this day have not gone, but what a great idea. Something we’ll remember for the rest of our lives! We shook hands, or it might have been high fives, looked at each other, and said: “no matter what’s happening with our lives, we were going to do it.” We had a whole year to save money, and it was going to be a once in a lifetime experience! Everyone remembers that time. I sure do. The excitement, the change from 19-something to 20-something, when it took about three months to get used to writing 2000, the possibility of the world to end, planes falling down, computers not functioning, world-wide panic, mayhem, etc. Just to add, I was on a plane one night prior to that millennium change, without any fear whatsoever, with, of all people, Matthew McConaughey, on board towards Jamaica. Matt McConaughey, Jamaica…yet another story there. Almost ten years later, that Y2K memory seems so minute and silly. Back to the New York Empire state of mind, just a couple of months prior to 1998’s New Year’s Eve, I started to gather the troops to follow true on the middle half of “the promise”. Immediately, two of the guys backed out for some silly reasons I honestly can’t even remember. I ended up going with my friend Lyndon, and we took our kids! Lyndon took his son, I took my two son and daughter, and off to Manhattan Island, New York we went! For that trip, our main goal was to experience that “New Year’s Rockin’ Eve Times Square Celebration.” Growing up, I had spent many a quiet New Year’s evenings, watching Dick Clark and a billion other people go crazy on television, waiting for that ball to drop and experience all the confetti fly around Times Square, only to fall asleep ten short minutes thereafter. I always figured: “If I can make it there, I could make it anywhere!” I also thought: “Many people I know have traveled and experienced the world, but who can really ever say they celebrated New Years Eve at Times Square in the freezing cold, with a billion other insane people?” Yeah… Upon arrival on our very first New York afternoon, we took a limousine to our hotel. For some reason, limos were cheaper than taking a taxi, maybe a New York thing? It was immediately obvious that we were going to have the coldest experiences of our silly little lives. Lyndon just happens to be Filipino as well, and we are both as brown and hairless as they come. With this experience, it quickly became very obvious why we belonged in the tropics, on sandy beach vacations, and not the arctic winters of the Eastern Atlantic Coast of North America. As one of the kids would later say, “it’s so cold it feels like knives are hitting my face.” As we walked the streets of Manhattan, we were very humbled by the cold, and found ourselves looking for any clothing store to purchase thermal under wear and something to cover our frozen faces. I had gone skiing and experienced cold mountains and snow before, but that New York wind chill was way out of our league. We finally found a sporting goods store and purchased what we needed to somewhat weather the cold! I was soon realizing what my father had been talking about. Just beginning with the weather, the hardships of the East Coast cold, its history, that we West Coasters take for granted in our laid back Southern California attitude, is so very easy, compare to the New York experience. For lunch, we walked into a TGIF, and had to climb to the third floor to find an empty table. It was then that I realized that Manhattan, compared to Los Angeles, was a “vertical city”, compared to Los Angeles’ horizontal, taking up so much more land with way less skyscrapers. As the song says, “only a nobody walks in LA.” In New York, “everyone” walks, and walks, and walks, and walks some more. It’s so interesting to me, because being such a huge sports fanatic, I’ve been a closet New York Yankee fan since the Yankees beat the Dodgers in the World Series in 1977 and 1978. With their rich tradition and their aggressive winning ways, I always looked to them, and maybe the entire east coast for that matter, as that “domineering older brother”. I remember during the 80’s when the Los Angeles Lakers played the Boston Celtics in so many great games. I rooted nervously for the Lakers, and we won more than they did, but I always felt like we were playing against our big brother, with just a little more experience and tradition on their side. It also feels like Celtic fans are just a little bit more “committed” than Lakers fans. I still to this day feel the same way. The same with Yankee fans versus Dodger fans. And just ask the great Laker Jerry West about that feeling. I’m sure he can very well explain it with his “big brother” experiences against Bill Russell. In a lot of ways, that’s just the simple truth about the American family called The United States. It all started in New York and the East Coast, and moved west. California officially became a state when, 1850? So my father, in more ways than one, is definitely on to something. One last incident that truly made me feel like “the younger brother” happened after getting off the Staten Ferry from our visit to Ellis Island and The Statue of Liberty. We had walked past Battery Park, past Wall Street’s Financial District, and found ourselves inside a deli just across the street from the Twin Towers. Coincidentally that afternoon, there was a couple of fire trucks parked in front of the World Trace Center, with their lights and sirens on. At the time, we couldn’t help thinking that these firemen had “the most dangerous jobs” anywhere, as we looked up to all those thousand-foot buildings. In the deli, as I was about to order the New York slices of pizza, salads and various pastas over the counter for the troop, I realized that the guy taking orders had a very heavy New York accent. He looked about the same age as I did, but being Filipino, I was probably way older. I don’t know what was the stranger English spoken between us, my “Filipino-Mexican-Southern California” accent or his “Italian-New Yawk” drawl. It was soon very obvious that we were both from the opposite ends of America, especially by the way I spoke and how I asked a few questions. The way I ordered the food came out somewhat smoothly, that is, until he asked me if I wanted the pasta on a plate or a box. He asked: “Do you want the pasta on a platta?” I answered with: “Oh you mean a plate?” He quickly says: “No, a platta.” “You mean a plate.” I insisted. “No, a platta, “ he insisted back. With one last look, and with a little smile from the guy, I finally gave in and answered: “Ok, a platter. A platta.” He then gave me a big smile and handed me the plate of pasta. All he wanted me to do was hear me say “platta”, in his own New York accent, and test my resolve. I stuck with my guns, but as soon as I gave in, he gave me that smile, and asked me where I was from, how I liked New York, who I came here with, and so on. The conversation quickly became very friendly and almost familial. And that pretty much summed-up what Manhattan, New York was all about for me. I see New York as hard people, soft people, all in one island, working hard, playing hard, almost on top of each other. The city really doesn’t sleep. It’s open 24 hours a day. Fathers, and in this case maybe older brothers, really know best. I’ve since gone back to Manhattan two more times, and can’t wait to go back again. And what happened to our New Years Rockin’ Eve experience at Times Square? Just watch all the insane, freezing, domineering, tough, persevering, determined, committed, celebrated, and very much alive people every New Year’s Eve at Times Square on television…that was us!
Happy New Year!
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