A Happy 2006

1-1-06

With one great shift, the clocks arm swings forward. The pageantry and din of the holiday, issued from countless sources, fills every nook, cranny, and open space. Glitter and noisemakers accentuate as confetti falls to the floor. Cheerful revelers, with hands upturned to the sky, invite the dawn of a new age, where hopes and dreams, and all that is everything may continue to live on.

At a bar, a man with spiky hair grins. Just a few feet away, the dance floor overflows with sweat and movement. The strobe light bounces quicksilver off each smiling face. The crowd surges with excitement, as the pump and spring of the music falls and rises with each crescendo.

Dressed in a blue athletic shirt and torn blue jeans, the man sips slowly on his drink, cranberry and vodka melding frostily in his throat. “This is awesome!” he sings, glancing momentarily at his brother standing next to him. “I’ve never seen this place so busy.” A mass of curls breaking out from under a Quicksilver hat, his brother nods appreciatively, and then returns to the drink held in his hand.

Four dark giant speakers, resting at the back of the room, drown out the emphatic stresses of conversation. In the clamor, people lose their syllables, and the ‘what’, ‘huh’, and ‘silent nod’ becomes the only way to communicate. Striding through this heavy mix of sound and body, the man raises an eyebrow, noticing a girl as she walks on by. Black tresses falling across her back, the girl is Latin, beautiful, and for a slight sliver of a moment their eyes meet across the crowd. She smiles briefly, almost imperceptibly, as he glances back. For one tiny instant, as the throng parts and then closes again, they latch on to each other, offering signs of a silent, but shared, approval. Before his heart has a chance to rise in his chest, before a wink or another smile can be passed, she is gone—lost in the movement of the crowd.

“Aieeeeyahyaieee” he mutters to himself, shivering at the thought of her smile, however briefly perceived. The music jumps from House to Usher. Club ballads scream their hedonistic popularity. “Let’s get out there” the spiky haired boy says, motioning to the dance floor, and slurping up the last bits of red ice water in his drink. Setting his plastic cup on the nearest table, his brother snaps his fingers, and begins to make his way toward center stage. The area is long and rectangular, rimmed by narrow countertops for people to set their drinks on. On a raised platform, the DJ sways back and forth, raising volume and tweaking pitch with each transition of song. Brilliant colors flood the dance floor, projected from spinning globes on the ceiling, and people wave orange and green glow sticks through their hands, tracing DNA like patterns in the air. Senses overwhelmed, the mass shuffles in its strange little world.

Just as the rhythm begins to penetrate his body, he sees her, again, not steps away. She flaunts a shirt rimmed with silver sequins that plays with the light like the globe swinging over head. Sliding down the sweep of her halo, and fortified with liquid courage, he glides towards her without hesitation. Feeling his movement near her, she turns, smiles, and begins to dance. “Hot diggidy dog!” he thinks to himself, seizing her hips and dancing with her. “This is one opportunity I just can’t pass up.”

Together they move, back and forth, swinging under arms and around shoulders. The girl’s eyes are black, dark and inviting, and she teases him with her smile and sway. He smirks back, leading the dance, and at times looks away—feigning the indifference of a man with nothing to lose. Together they meld, her black hair and his blue eyes, lost in the freedom and thrill of the movement. “God!” he thinks as he smells her perfume. “This is such therapy!”

Like all great moments, the excitement builds, with its climax, and then slips, falls, and fades away. The song loses its breadth and her hand slides from his. Their eyes wander to other things, bored with the present moment, looking for other ways to momentarily fill themselves once again. Content with his little slice of happiness, the spiky haired boy sits down at a nearby table, next to his brother.

“That was awesome,” he states “what a great New Year.”

“Definitely” his brother replies, a tired late night stupor lining his face.

“You know, this is it. The beginning of a new year. And not just a new year but a new beginning. 2006 is going to be my year, my time, and no one will take it from me.” The spiky haired boy beams, his brother gives him a ‘yeah, whatever’ look, and they both get up to leave.

The drone of New Year’s partying continues long after they walk away. Lights continue to flash, people continue to smile, happy with the direction that a new beginning gives. The early morning sunshine awaits, ready to throw light on a billion fresh faces. In the mind and in the heart, they look towards the dawn, and all is born anew.