Silver subway doors parted at Metropolitan Avenue and we exited into a rush of sleek black coats and dresses colored by an assortment of standouts: neon pink wig with moonboots; full metal robot; new year’s baby with diaper, pacifier, and mustache. Ragamuffin hawking merch from a grocery cart: noisemakers, glowsticks, plastic hats; the glasses work particularly well this decade with two 0’s in the middle. Through the turnstile and up the stairs, different levels of drunk spilling onto the sidewalk, clean Korean deli with large windows on the corner.

“You wanna try for 40s here?” asked Tom.

“Do you? The guy behind the register looks too legit, he’s wearing a collared button-up, you know he’s gonna check ID,” I replied.

“Alright, where then?”

“Let’s walk west towards the party. We’ll find something.”

Each block less lively than the last, windchill on cheeks as we got closer to the river. Corner store with overlapping advertisements and porn mags in the window. I looked at Tom, who gave me an eyebrow. 

 “I’ll give it a shot,” I said and walked in with a jingle of bells above the opening door, older man glances at me then back to the television behind the counter, walk past the chips to the back of the store with cracked linoleum floors and find the forties on the bottom shelf of the fridge, I grabbed two and brought them up to the front. 

“ID?”

“Yep, here.”

Scratched out 88 to make it 83, he glanced over it quickly,

“Four.”

Traded my five dollar bill for a single, and he put the cold bottles with condensation into separate paper bags, then into a larger plastic one, which he handed me and I put into my backpack.

“Thanks.”

He nodded and I walked back outside, thumb up.

“Nice, what’d you get?”

“OE.”

“Sweet, did you get Sunny D for a Brass Monkey?”

“No, my tastebuds are weird, don’t want the sugar. Go get one if you want.”

“Nah it’s cool, straight champagne it is.”

We walked further west and glimpsed the top lights of Manhattan’s skyline in the distance as we walked past an empty lot with a barbed fence enclosing a few junked cars and skittering possum, broken glass twinkling in the streetlight, all quiet until we heard a low bassline, rabble drowning out treble, volume increasing. Turn the corner and see three spike collared crust punks debating in a circle while jet black leather jacket girl stands against the brick wall beside them, smoking a cigarette and staring blank into the night. Iron door, curled and rusted at the bottom, opened by an exiting couple and grabbed by Tom. We walked into a hallway, a large group trying to bargain with two guys behind a table, challenging the ten dollars for admittance, “for the open bar,” “but John told us we could get in for free.”

Silent sidenod from Tom who gestured around the table, confident steps, act like we already paid. One door down from the broken freight elevator, we found metal stairs onto second floor landing, through the threshold into a giant loft, excavated industrial warehouse turned into DIY party space, crowded, all the better, booze table in the corner, no bartender, Georgi and other plastic bottles of liquor, empty trays of jello shots. Girl with dreads, fishnet over dress, and combat boots stomping the concrete floor…

Say say my playmate, 

Won’t you lay your hands on me, 

Mirror my malady, 

Transfer my tragedy… 

Bassbump my breastplate, bouncing my feet, but weighed down by the forties. Over the noise I yelled, “You wanna go up to the roof and drink these?”

Tom yelled back, “We’ll freeze our balls off, let’s find a corner or something, I gotta roll up for midnight anyway.”

See two kids coming down the ladder on the side of a room partition, I looked at Tom and pointed, he nodded and we climbed up then took a seat on the edge, overlooking the crowd from above, sound slightly drowned.

“Sweet party, who told us about this again?”

“Daniel gave me the address, I think one of his friends rented the space, but I heard a bunch of people talking about this before break.” Join the crowd after drinking. I opened my backpack and passed him his paper bag. Twisting off a forty top, “Crappy brew cheers!” clink n’ swig, cold malty corn, not too bad while cold.

“I haven’t seen anyone from school yet have you?”  

“Wasn’t that Leah with the combat boots?”

“Alice said she was coming with Erika, I’ll shoot her a text.”

hey where u at? im here, probably on the roof for midnight

Kiss her when the ball drops. Burned her that CD for Christmas, still hasn’t told me if she liked it, didn’t wanna make it too sappy, songs were more my taste than hers probably.

“Don’t worry about her man, plenty of fish in the sea,” said Tom, gesturing his forty toward the dancing crowd, “big city at the most populated point of human history.”

Swill, energy of youth with alcohol, extra kick from being illicit complicit together, THANK YOU FOR NOT DANCING sign in the corner, rage against the dying of the year, body heat furnace, unzip my jacket when we was young oh man did we have fun gulp from the bulky glass, aftertaste getting bitter as it warmed, tastebuds more discerning since steroid regimen had ended, but restless legs remain.

“You think it’s safe to put our stuff down up here and start dancing?”

“You’re gonna lose it if you put it down. Midnight is in like half an hour, let’s down these forties then check out the roof.”

“Don’t you wanna find a dance partner for midnight?”

“Fuck that, I got this fatty here already,” he pointed to the blunt behind his ear, “how much you got left, chugging range?”

“Don’t wanna let this get any warmer.”

“Yeah, let’s get up to the roof for midnight, first one downed gets to spark greens,” said Tom before leaning back, down the hatch, gurgles and burps. Stomach settled, we stood up, boozy headrush, look at the paint-spattered ground, limbs loosening, care back down the ladder. Through the fringe of the crowd, familiar face approaching, Zoe from math class, “Hey! Where are you going?” Tom walking away towards the staircase, “I’ll be back down after midnight, we’re gonna smoke this blunt on the roof, wanna come?”

“Too cold! Find me later!”

Up grated metal flights to the roof, Emergency Only opened to a dense crowd, smoking section, tricky sparking with wind whipping in from the river. Clear night, a couple stars shining through the light pollution, Williamsburg Bridge and part of Manhattan’s skyline visible between buildings, sprawling Brooklyn at our back. Tom giving someone a pound, who’s that? Daniel.

“What’s up man?”

“Not much, this spot is pretty dope huh?”

“Yeah, view from the roof is great, downstairs looks fun too.”

“My homegirl is organizing the music for this thing, I’m gonna be DJing from two to three, if the cops don’t break it up by then.”

“That’s awesome, you brought your iPod?” asked Tom.

“Well, right now it’s just Alex playing his iPod, but after midnight the real party starts, I’ve brought turntables and everything, make sure you check out the booth when you head back down.”

“You brought vinyl records?”

“Nah man, the turntables connect to my laptop and play mp3 files, then we can mix and scratch them like regular old analogue.”

“Damn, brave new world. You wanna get down on this with us, start the new year off right?” said Tom taking the blunt from behind his ear. 

“Of course.”    

Crowd starts the countdown from ten… three… two… one! Woooooo!! Ayyyy!! Fireworks pop and crackle at random, light the late cityscape. Couples kissing, phone says January first, no text from Alice, probably smooching someone else, year to be hated. Tom huddling with the lighter by the waist-high wall, hopefully enough of a barrier to keep drunks safe, he took a deep drag and exhaled into the wind.

“Man, you guys remember two years ago when we went to Simon’s house for New Years, and his parents were there and they had chips and soda?” asked Daniel.

“Haha, and we smoked from a carved apple on the fire escape after they went to sleep,” said Tom.

“Guess we’re all grown up now,” I said.

“You gonna take your DJ set on the road to college?”

“I decided I wanna go to a CUNY, don’t wanna miss all this.” said Daniel, gesturing at the skyline and the crowd of kids, “and I started getting some gigs in Bushwick.” 

“That’s pretty deep, you bring your whole set up out there?” 

“The one spot I’ve been working with has a good set up, so I can just bike there, you should come through sometime.”

“What about this place?” asked Tom as he nuzzled the end of the blunt on the roof’s edge and let it drop.

“Alex’s brother knows the person who owns it, so they got a deal. It’s an art studio during the day, great lighting through the big windows. Anyway, I gotta go get ready for my set. Wanna go back down?”

“Let’s do it.”

Opened the Emergency door back inside and smacked by a rush of heat and sound. Careful steps back down the stairs, could use the bathroom, but there’s a long line for the only one. Crowd of blurred faces. Forget about Alice. Find someone else on the dance floor, where’s Zoe? Don’t see her. Go into the crowd with some confidence.

“Hey, look there’s a couple bottles left over at the open bar.”

Georgi straight from the bottle, harsh aftertaste, immediate rush, immersed, floating lights dim, weight levitating to the lofted ceiling, swirling, and then plunging heavily down with a nauseous headache, black out.

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