Time is relative …according to Al

Today is the first 20th day of the year 2020. Soooo …20, 2020. We’re going to have 11 more, but this is the first one. I’ve always been fascinated by humans fixation on quantifying the passage of time. I mean would some event still be remembered and noted for posterity if it weren’t said to have occurred at a specific quantifiable point in the passage of the inexorable expansion of the mass of the universe. Does the numbers assigned make the memory or the transpiring of the event?

I clearly remember what I did on January 1, 2001; 01-01-01. The most binary day of my life anyway. I was living in Long Island City, New York, NY. Most people know the place as “Queens”. I awoke early and decided to head into the city. Being a member of the B&T clan (Bridge & Tunnel people) we were to refer to it as such, “The City”. But that is a subject for another blog post.

It was foggy as I stood on the 52nd St platform for the 7 train. It was leave your coat unbuttoned climate. I was the only person on the platform. But that made perfect sense since it was 8:30 in the morning on New Year’s Day. I didn’t imbibe the night before because I thought it best to keep my wits about me. I spent New Year’s Eve in my own company. I don’t remember much about that day beyond having Chinese food for dinner and going to Times Square to watch the ball drop. I got within five blocks of Times Square and settled into the pen at 50th and 7th Avenue. I thought this is a pretty good view of the ball drop and the complete collapse of western civilization since Y2K was going to shut off all the computers. I had my leather coat, heavy boots and even a small blade just in case… The full regalia of my biker days of that time in my life.

I went home after the big non-event of Y2K being a complete bust. I was thinking I was going to have to pull a Jake Plissken and Escape from New York. Nope, just getting on the train and back to Queens I go …probably should have had a martini just to mark the moment, cest la vie.

I come up out of the 42 st station in to the heart of the post-bacchanal the morning of 01-01-01 and it was a foot deep in confetti. Guys loading crowd control fence on trucks. Huge street sweepers baling up the confetti (I collected a handful for my personal posterity). Stage hands taking down all the event staging set-up around Times Square. It wasn’t Y2K chaos, but it was a very impressive mess to clean up. And time has since marched on…


Steven Chaffee– A gentlemen peer from my childhood in Oxford, IN days. He too is one the stalwarts who remained true to keeping the home fires burning.

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