The Second Time

New York City

     This party was unlike any other party I had ever been to. While most parties required the poor choices of consuming alcohol, or something worse, and encouraged irrational behaviors with other individuals, this party relied on simple, sober human connection with the option to do so intoxicated. Although many took the drunken route, there were many others having genuine fun without the help of any substance. They were high on the energy of each other and the deafening waves of music that ran through their bodies. Joining this crowd was one of the best choices I ever made.
     With a new year approaching, I heard chatter of New York City as people spoke of the city just around this time of year. It was like this every year, regardless of where I happened to be within the country. Whether it were Montana, Missouri, or Maine, everybody wanted to be in New York City on January 1st. This year, I happened to be in Massachusetts for the holidays, so I figured that it wouldn't be ridiculous to hitch-hike to the Big Apple.
     The trip to the city was incredibly uneventful as I made a point to make myself look dirty and unappealing for my own safety during the trip. I was not going to let a kidnapping ruin my plans for the only holiday that I enjoyed celebrating. I only carried around a drawstring bag that contained necessities, again for my own safety. It was a dirty black bag with words that I could not read, and nobody would have ever guessed that it often contained at least a thousand dollars in cash.
     When I finally arrived to the great city of New York, I wasn't as stunned as I originally planned to be. It was just like any other big city I had ever been to with tall skyscrapers, huge department stores, tourist attractions, some abstract sculptures, and the occasional tree. Just like any other large city, there were thousands of people bustling about, too busy to look up at each other. Busy, busy, busy in all of their own busy lives. Nobody appreciated each other. Nobody ever did. A busy man would never stop to look at a busy woman in childish wonder or awe, yearning to make memories with every stranger that he encountered. He was too busy for that, and so was everybody else in the city. I wasn't too busy for that though, as most of my work was done at night and I didn't have friends or family to make plans with. It was always just me in the oceans of busy people in busy cities.
     To find people that weren't too busy in their own lives, I went to parties and clubs and anywhere that I could find another person that was as desperate as I was for simple human interaction. Unlike these people, I was doomed to remain alone. No matter how hard I tried, I would never be able to meet them again. Something would always prevent me from ever seeing the same person twice. While all of the partiers that yearned for human interaction were able to reconnect, I was forced to start all over again with every person I met. This life style was awfully boring, as I found myself often having the same conversation with different people. It was always the same words shared, but in different contexts.
     A majority of my social interactions went something like this:
Stranger sees Max dancing by herself. Stranger approaches Max. Max wants to talk, but Stranger wants sex. Max obliges, but in exchange for money. Stranger leaves. Max has money, but is now alone. Occasionally I would get  awkward small talk or a dance partner or a free drink, but this didn't happen very often. What I yearned for was a person to talk to. Somebody that would share their life story with me. Somebody that I could learn something from. Somebody that I could remember. Somebody that I would never forget. This hope is what kept me going to every party I could find.
     I arrived in New York City on December 27th, which gave me five to adjust and find out as much as I could about the New Years Celebration. That night was spent exploring the city. My goal was to meet some people and to gather tips on a good party spot for New Years. Since this was a cold evening, I quickly deducted that the rest of the nights would most likely be a bit chilly as well. Being indoors for New Years Eve seemed to be the ideal location for a seemingly long celebration.
     As I walked along The City That Never Sleeps, I found myself standing outside what looked like a jazz bar. Music poured into the street, drawing the attention of any person that happened to walk by. I too was attracted to the cry of a trumpet, and this jazz bar became my first stop in this intriguing, unfamiliar city.