tales of a new year something

Several months back when I was buying Christmas plane tickets I resolved that seeing the Sydney Harbour Bridge fireworks at least once in my life was a high priority, so I bit the bullet and flew United, the only airline who financially supported such a decision.

The flight really wasn't so bad. It started off with me in an aisle seat, and two empty seats the other direction. A couple hours in (we're talking a 14-hour trans-Pacific flight), a mother traveling with four children under the age of 9 begged to use the seats to put her 15-month-old to bed as the bassinet they'd booked had fallen through. I let them in and fell asleep some time later, waking up to find the mother and child had morphed into a young adult male. How precisely this took place I still have no idea.

In any event, by the time the plane landed, I had slept for the better part of three consecutive flights and was thankfully more awake than most people tend to be after a 30 hour journey. This was key, as it was New Year's Eve Day and my Sydney fireworks scheme required sustained energy throughout the day.

I hadn't quite finished unpacking when I realized if I wanted any semblance of cleanliness, it was time to hop to it before staking out a spot by the bridge. I texted a friend to say I'd be running a half hour late and unbelievably managed to arrive at exactly the amended time.

We met under the bridge (please don't ask which one), bought some water and walked a couple blocks down the street only to find that there was only one entrance to Bradfield Park, and that we had been traipsing in precisely the wrong direction. Please note, we were going in the right direction to actually get where we wanted to go; they had simply set up the bag check (check-for-no-alcohol-check, not leave-it-with-us-and-take-a-number-check)in the wrong spot.

After we made it in, we progressed west of the bridge and found The Perfect Spot, which I have named in an entirely non-satirical manner. It was really quite perfect: we had a decent-sized corner space all to ourselves, with an amazing view of the bridge. What more could we want? (Possibly slightly less slope, as it did get a little uncomfortable after six or seven hours, but the slope was necessary if we wanted the view. Which we unquestionably did. Hence, case closed: the spot was perfect.)

Around 2 pm another friend joined us and a fourth came just in time to learn 500 a bit later. And so we lounged the afternoon away, chatting, picnicking and playing cards.



The time passed remarkably quickly and before we knew it the 5 pm festivities were
underway. There were flyovers and a fire tugboat on the harbour, which was really pretty nifty.



We occasionally got up to meander around, find some food and sample coconut drinks, I discovered had been marked up by 200%, if you didn't count the decorative umbrella. I do, however, so I figure I broke just about even.



At 9 pm, the kids' fireworks lasted 8 minutes, and were nice despite being extremely brief. Afterwards, a few families left and the light parade began. The light parade was really a rather good idea: what will 1.25 million people do for three hours, after all? Watch decorated boats sail past on the harbour! Most were lined with lights, and one had a whale outlined on it. Others had beach themes, waves and life guard flags.

About this time I was starting to feel rather on the jet-lagged side of things, so reluctantly curled up for a slight snooze before the grand finale, leaving explicit instructions to be woken up at 11:30 and then once every 10 minutes until I was actually conscious. Thankfully I have amazing friends who function not only as humans, but snooze alarms as well.

About 11:55 they were telling me that it was really probably a good idea to open my eyes and think about standing up, and about 11:57:30 I agreed. We all stood waiting for the fireworks, and were certainly not disappointed: it was an absolutely amazing display shot from five vantage points (we could see two and a half quite well), and incredibly classy. The bridge display was all it was cracked up to be, particularly when magenta blasts came all the way down the walkway off the bridge, just parallel to where we were. It was like being inside a giant firework ourselves.





And then, 12 minutes later, it was over, happy New Year, Sydney! We hung around, taking the first photos of 2010, and then followed the crowd to the train station, where we arrived somewhere around 1 am.



Not actually needing a train myself, a friend and I cut through the crowd on the other side and eventually managed to find a bus stop, bus and, therefore, ride home. Thanks to him, I managed to make it safely and sanely back before 2 am, at which point I promptly crashed, only to wake up again at 7 am. Crazy jet lag!

Happy New Year!!