And so the Ball did drop; and the tourists did look upon it and see that it was good. Thus did the holiday season end in the City of New York, and the tourists did scatter back to the four corners of the United States. The people who did live in the City of New York came forth from their homes and looked about them, as if waking from a long sleep. They saw the streets were empty. Gone were the cheerful wondering looks and slow paces of those from Elsewhere. They saw that it was good.
And the residents of the City of New York did rejoice, for they once again had dominion over their own streets, free to walk without fear of interrupting someone's photograph, free from telling someone they were on the wrong train and then explaining the intricacies of the Authority of Metropolitan Transit. Free to scowl and flee down the streets as if late to the birth of their Child.
There was rejoicing in the Financial District, where the sidewalks did flow like streams and rivers, where no tourists did look for Ground Zero.
There was rejoicing in Rockefeller Center, for Brian Williams freely strode where once there was a tree, and a sea of Nebraskans to admire it. Radio City once more fell silent.
There was rejoicing in Herald Square, where no Santa did say "ho ho ho" in Macy's, nor did any tourist shout "They have TGI Friday's just like home!"
There was no rejoicing in Times Square, for it was cursed by a dying hooker long ago to be forever an orgiastic den of commercialism and billboards. Such will it ever be.
Colin Fisher is many things to many people, but mostly he's an actor and writer.
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