The plan involved something vague about being out in a city that had just won a championship that night. The plan hadn't been to walk from Astor Place to the deserted streets by city hall alone as some clock tower tolled out midnight. I guess I'll remember this as the night the Giants won the Superbowl and I walked alone across the Brooklyn Bridge.
It was beautiful walk. I think I saw six people on the bridge the entire time I was on it. According to the big clock on the watchtower building, I stopped in the middle for the view at 12:17am. It also said it was 32 degrees out, F. It felt warmer.
There's a place a little on the Brooklyn side, where the walkway has corrugated aluminum siding. It sort of blocks out some of the ambient light. And if you sit down, and look up, you can sort of see stars. There aren't many places you can do that in this town.
I saw things tonight. I saw a giant glass door of a club, shattered into a million pieces, while some guy stood with his friends outside saying something about how this is what happens if you mess with "the Tree." I saw a car drive on the Brooklyn Bridge with a plastic bumper dragging on the ground by the corner. It's funny while you see it driving. It's less funny later when you walk by the car pulled over and a family standing around the car looking hopeless.
It felt good walking along the bridge. For once, I really felt like I was doing something. I miss that feeling.
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