Despite the fact that I’ve seen weekly, and occasionally twice nightly, fireworks shows in the Sydney harbor since the beginning of spring, New Years Eve was certainly the show to rule them all. Fireworks get shot off of barges throughout the harbor, spout out of unseen buoys in the water, spew off the Harbor Bridge, stretching it’s length into the city, and even shower off the skyscrapers in the CBD. From almost any of the many many many optimal view points for the show, you’d find yourself glancing back and forth, from the massive explosions in the sky to the shower of sparkles coming off the bridge. This show takes fireworks to a new level.
But perhaps the best part of the New Years Eve fireworks is not the show itself, but the fact that it’s like one large party that the entire city is invited too. They even do a 9pm show, so the little nippers and those who might have trouble staying up past midnight have a chance to join the fun. Despite all the holiday events I’ve attended in New York (though I would never have gotten up early enough for the Thanksgiving Day Parade, sorry Macy’s. And it was always too cold for the ball drop, go ahead and call me a wuss if you want to.) I don’t think I’ve ever seen such citywide anticipation for one single stretch of about 12 minutes. Months ago when we would tell people where we lived (Kirribilli, directly across the water from the Opera House) and that we had a roof deck, the first thing they would bring up was our optimal view for New Years Eve.
We are very lucky indeed, to have private access to such a great view, because it kept us out of the chaos that started building at around noon. By lunchtime on the 31st, our neighborhood was packed. Lots of restaurants had established street-side stands to sell quick meals to the people heading to the park under the bridge. And the liquor store, in addition to selling bags of ice directly off the wearhouse pallets on the street, had posted two security guards at the front door and put up a large sign which made it clear that alcohol had to be consumed off the premises. Yes, everyone was gearing up for a party.
We still had to contend with a roadblock or two, to head to another bridge adjacent neighborhood for the early show, but from our friend’s harbor-side deck you could really feel the party starting. The boats were packing up every nook and cranny they could, towing the established line that kept them just out of the traffic zone. Each boat was filled to capacity, and probably beyond, with people eating, drinking and occasionally pushing their friends off into the water. And as the 9pm show ended, you could hear all the cheers cross the water and roll their way up the shore. By the time we made it through the crowd and back to our roof, there were so many boats in the harbor that you couldn’t tell where the land ended and the water began.
After the show, which could only really be described as going off with a bang, we walked around our neighborhood to asses the damage. It looked as if several trash filled hurricanes had dumped all of their loads on the foreshore. But the mood of the people stumbling home was undeniably jolly. Even the cops seemed a tad less scowly than they had been before. And there was surprisingly little chunder (vomit) on the street. The park has since been cleaned up, order has returned to Kirribilli and I find myself quite ready for a New Year. I just hope the city eventually picks up the hundreds of portopottys they left behind.
