The Year New Year’s Eve Almost Wasn’t.
‘Twas the night before the New Year, when all through the village
lots of creatures were stirring, even the breeder results with lice;
The bricks were getting pitched from the mall with care,
In hopes that TJ and his hos soon would be there…
Since I was out of town doing a job for 2.5 weeks during my vacation (in this depressed economy does anyone ever get a single day off?) I missed the typically eventful (by village standards) New Year’s Eve celebration that happens on the mall every year. Luckily I had a few sources fill me in on events that transpired that evening so I was able to piece together this accurate sequence of events.
New Year’s Eve in Charlottesville, December 31, 2008.
The evening started off as every other New Year’s Eve in C-Ville does: screaming kids, no booze, screaming kids (oh wait…I said that already), dozens of police to keep the racial violence and pedestrian run-downs to a minimum, and the same crowd of one tooth/string banjo playing bums.
The overall number of people was a bit low due to the brutal 55 degree weather (it is typically around 70 at this time of year in the village now that global warming has settled in).
Things seemed normal.
The village then let information sneak out. As we recall in 2008 construction began on the biggest building in the history of the village. So big that a crane was required during the construction.
Since the finances for the construction have run out due to shady art deals by the hotel developer, the city offered to use the spare 2 million dollars that they found kicking around in their coffers to buy a few seconds of fame for the village, and drop a ball from the crane, just like Times Square in NYC. What a brilliant idea!
They needed a few things first. A ball, a way to lower the ball, and a clock such that the ball would drop at the correct time. Most people might think this is easy, but you have to remember where this is taking place (yea, C-Ville…where technology is feared, and time is still kept by TJ’s clock up at Monticello).
Reports are sketchy, but the ball was apparently designed by a 12 year old girl (users reported an age range from 10 to 14). An exercise ball was donated by ACAC (since they charge a ridiculous monthly fee they could afford it), and the local technology club (you know who you are) had lots of modern CD technology laying around that they normally would distribute to new residents.
Things were going well. A ball had been made. Getting the ball to the top of the crane required a special permit from City government, but with a bit of cash that was quickly taken care of (the city won’t accept credit cards…only cash or check – what is a check?). Now a rope was required to get the ball to the platform that was on top of the unfinished landmark hotel.
To get something as complex as a rope (plus a crank so that it could be raised/lowered) an emergency meeting of the BAR (Board of Architectural Review, or is that Boneheads Accepting Revenue) was called. Since everything must be the same as TJ’s day, it was determined that the rope would have to be made out of hemp. To get this “hemp” the organizers had to walk about 50 feet to the other side of the tracks. Along the way they had to shut down a road as a distraction.
Things were almost ready. Finding a clock that adhered to Jeffersonian standards was tricky. It was decided that the only official time in the world is kept at Monticello, so someone would be there with a lantern and a piece of wood. A sequence of light flashes could be used to let the person on top of the landmark hotel know the proper time (one if close to midnight, two if past midnight…or something like that).
Everything was in place.
The audience below the hotel on the downtown mall was ecstatic. Nothing like this had ever been done before. The man stationed in Monticello gave the signal and the ball started getting lowered to the big 2009 that would light up (via candles) when the ball reached the platform after a 10 second countdown. The crowd went wild and started to count down.
This is where things got fun. The man who was lowering the ball decided it was time for a smoke (who in this village could possibly live without a cigarette for 10 seconds). He lit up and was enjoying the smoke, so the ball stopped moving. No one on the ground was sure what to do. Chaos was about to erupt. As the man light up, he had discarded his match next to the rope. The rope was beginning to smoke. Needless to say, smoking “hemp” started (some report Puff the Magic Dragon started playing).
The rope then started to burn a bit more feverishly. The cigarette of the man went up in a puff of smoke, along with his sideburns, and that got him back on task. The ball once again started getting lowered, but a bit more quickly this time. The fellow at Monticello had passed out trying to signal that midnight had already passed by. The crowd stood by. Some had stopped counting. Others were well in to the negative range, and some had started counting upward in to 2009.
The candles were lit on the 2009 sign, and contentment of the new year settled in. Increased unemployment, more bums, empty buildings, and increased assessment values await the residents. Screaming kids were loaded in to SUV’s and the parent were wondering if they would be the next person to run over a pedestrian. TJ settled back in with Sally for another year, and the “hemp” rope mysteriously vanished (perhaps C-Ville government accountants will find it at the end of the year). The AOL CD’s have been returned to local technology groups, and the exercise ball is back at the gym.
Will this sort of event ever happen again? Tune in next year, same TJ channel, same TJ time.
PS. I one reader let me know that due to the time delay of the event that the ball lowerer was sent packing and was told he wouldn’t be invited back next year. This picture of him was snapped the next evening. Oh my…how sad.
