New York for New Years - Watching the ball drop

In the spirit of checking things off my list (30 before 30), and seeing a very good friend of mine (who I've promised to visit for over a year now), I ventured off to New York to ring in the New Year in Times Square.  Seriously, who hasn't wanted to put that accomplishment in their hat?

No?  Okay, just me then.

The trip was amazing.  And a lot of walking.  I saw all the iconic sites: Empire State Building, Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge, Times Square, etc. and ate lots of great NY food.  Plus, I spent a good chunk of my trip pretending I was a "real New Yorker", and I'll admit, I fooled a couple of people.  Apparently I have "in a hurry" and an exasperated "get out of my way" look down pat.

Here's the tree from Rockefeller Center.  Who doesn't love gigantic trees covered in sparkly lights?  (What's that you say?  Probably the people who had to put them all up?  Nah)

But the highlight, and one of the main tenets of the trip itself, was New Years Eve, which was lovingly spent with tens of thousands of my closest buds.  A seven-hour party right in the middle of the street.  My friend and I weren't on Broadway (where the stage was), we were on 7th Avenue (which crosses Broadway, making an "X" at Times Square).  Imagine a triangle, with point at the top (ball) and the two sides (Broadway & 7th) going out from there.  So no, I didn't see (or hear) Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber... and thank goodness for that.  We got down there around 4:30 pm, stuffed ourselves like sardines into metal police fencing (which corralled off the area people were allowed to wait in), had no idea what was going on, and then tried to entertain ourselves for seven hours.  We did crossword puzzles, listened to grossly inappropriate conversations happening around us, and even got mistaken for a mother/daughter duo (I'll let you guess who was confused for who).  Then I got hit on by a 16 year old.  Yep.  Happy New Year, New York.  You've been swell.