Escape to Central America!

It was only a matter of time.  The new year was imminent and we anticipated 2011 in the backseat of a black car, dressed in lace and a tie.  I guess we were both saying good-bye to something in the wake of a change that only time could bring, and we were quiet as we rumbled along the highway. The night sky hung low above our heads and the somber gray clouds of winter were illuminated by the distant glow of the approaching city.  Our flight to Central America would depart in the quiet, early hours of the new year, but we had one night left in North America... 

New Year's Eve began with ghosts and champagne.  With a few friends in tow and a flute of bubbly in hand, we explored the historic houses of Philadelphia's high society.  We moved from building to building, each one older than the last, eagerly listening to legends and folklore, haunted tales and unexplained events. 

With our blood sufficiently chilled with spooky tales and our fingers numbed by December's icy breath, we were ready to heat-up the remaining hours with festive beverages and some late-night dancing.  We failed to heed our original rule of maintaining sobriety for the sake of travel and accepted the pony-necked beers handed to us when we arrived through the narrow doorway of a brownstone townhouse in downtown Philly.

The party was in full swing.  The alcohol flowed, the crowd churned, and the music pounded in our blood.  It was hard to believe that we would soon be in a new country, adjusting to a new routine, in just a matter of hours.  As midnight approached we all made our way up a tight staircase leading to an icy roof in order to ring-in the year. Our spirits were high, and we screamed into the night as fireworks exploded, green and red and white, along the city skyline.

Nothing really changes when the old calendars are tossed and the new ones are pinned-up in their stead, but there is always that immense feeling of hope as the final minutes of the year are whittled away by time's knife.    Perhaps, more so than a birthday, the approaching year made me aware that time is fleeting.  Many of us deal with the realization by inventing resolutions to be better people and vow to make the most of the time that is left to us.  But I had no misconceptions and only watched the fireworks with excitement.  They were a symbol of change - a celebration of it - and I didn't make any wishes as the electric shards disappeared toward the earth.

The party was still raging but Cypress and I figured we could still manage to steal a few hours of sleep before leaving the country.  We walked home hand-in-hand, along the icy cobblestones of a haunted city, and soon closed our eyes against an antique bed with a brass frame.  Sleep came as quickly as the morning, and we awoke only two hours later, still inebriated, the sky still black, the air still and cold.  Bleary-eyed, we shuffled about with as much haste as we could manage at 4 AM.  We each forced down a banana while collecting our luggage, and in a dreamy haze, and with the help of  Cypress's brother, we made our way to the Philadelphia International Airport. 

I fumbled to scan my passport and hid my state of intoxication from Homeland Security, feigning sleepiness.  The airport was quiet and the gates were adorned with only a dusting of travelers.  Cypress and I watched them as we rested our heads on our backpacks in the food court.  We sipped Vitamin Waters in the vain hope of avoiding a hangover, but only time and sleep would cure us.

We moved to an empty gate and waited. Cypress stole a few moments of sleep and I snapped photos of a busy runway, illuminated by the rising sun of a new day, silent behind the glass.  A voice over the loudspeaker warned against leaving bags unattended.  Then our flight was announced and we were called to board. We dragged our lifeless bodies toward a line of moving passengers and joined them on the plane bound for Costa Rica. Nothing but time now.  Our excitement fluttered behind a mask of crippling exhaustion.  We held hands as the plane took off, and fell into a deep, liberating slumber. 

We rubbed our eyes as we descended into San Jose, and when we stepped out into the hot, bright day we found ourselves surrounded by demanding taxi drivers.  Cypress chose a man with a kind face and we threw our bags into the trunk of his red car.  As we snaked through the streets of an unfamiliar city the three of us chattered in broken Spanish, and I could feel all the drink and smoke of the previous night evaporate from my body.  Now, all that remained was simple exhilaration. Everything was new and different.  We were completely displaced, enveloped by a warm and enchanting culture, and I felt very far away.