The first time I came to New York, I came for the New Year. My friend’s friend had gone back to Mexico for the holidays and my friend and I stayed at her apartment on the East Side. It was the first time I’d ever stayed in a building with a doorman.
I remember watching the ice rink on Rockefeller plaza. Most people stumbled around on their skates, flailing their arms, trying not to fall. This was the one time a year when they were ice-skating, and it wasn’t enough to make them proficient. One man stood with exquisite skating skills stood out. He was formally dressed in a dark gray winter coat, sharp-cut Asian features, a perfect haircut. He skated forwards and backwards, moved in rhythm to the music, made circles around the other skaters and subtly danced around the girls who didn’t pay attention because they were focusing on staying on their feet.
On New Year’s night, my friend and I found a bar on First Street. We didn’t know anyone there, but because if was New Year’s, and because it was New York, we got talking to people quickly. One girl surprised me by kissing me long before midnight. It ended up being a pretty start to the New Year.
Nehaveigur 