NOTE; I wrote this about a year ago for my creative writing class.
(Assignment: Descriptive and meaningful memoir)
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New York City—
    The City of Romance? Of Opportunity? Perhaps both.
    But sadly, she wasn’t able to experience either.
        You could probably call this story an “Almost was,” or a “Might have been,” because fate managed to strip her of all the hope she was carrying in the palms of her hands, and of the soles of her feet.
You are probably asking yourself, “Another love story?” But no, I’m sorry, no love stories here.
All you will manage to find is a hopeful girl from a little town in New Jersey, who bravely (and secretly) traveled to New York City with her father to see a particular boy from a little town in Pennsylvania.
    I know, I know; who in their right mind would take their time on New Year’s Eve to travel to the City trying to find someone they haven’t seen in a very long time? She believed that something amazing would happen if they did meet. Call her crazy, but she’s a sucker for city romance. In all honesty, she wanted to spend the last day of the year with him, even for a minute.
                                                                                               • • •
        Well enough stalling, here’s her story, or should I say, my story:
I stretched my lazy arm and tapped the alarm clock. 7:04 am, December 31, 2006. Today’s my day. I thought to myself. I carried on the usual morning ritual: Shower, clothing, hair. Equipped with my scarf, i-pod and my digital camera, I was ready to rock.
        The bus stop sat solemnly at the bottom of my neighborhood hill. It was quite cold that morning; I could see the frigid whisps of my breath as the new day dawned. The cold air in my lungs kept me awake as my father and I prodded down the hill. I took a seat on the cold, black bench surrounded by movie advertisements and colorful graffiti. After a brief wait a shady Community Coach bus pulled up and hummed as I followed my father onto the bus.
“Two passengers to New York? $13.00 please,” Asked the scruffy bus conductor.
        We took a seat, not too far from the entrance. I plugged my headphones into my ears, and sighed. The grand windows of the bus exposed the final Sunday morning of the year. The sun rose, painting the sky in many shades of red and pink. After a few stops, there were more heads above the seats. A group of tough-looking brothers laughed in the corner, a meager old woman entered, smiling, and a fine lady fingered her hair slightly.
The Lincoln Tunnel loomed above us. We were swallowed in its depths.
We neared the exit of the tunnel, and I gazed upwards, anticipating my favorite part of New York City:
the first sight of buildings, skyscrapers, and a multitude of reflecting windows.
        I looked up, marveling at the silvery giants dressed with threads of the sky.
I then wondered if Tim was there yet. He had said previously that he would be there with his family all day, and that they would have an early start. My father and I were only planning to stay until 1 p.m., and it was nearing 9 a.m. now. I planned to call him once I could get out of my father’s sight for a minute.

Port Authority! The major bus station of New York City. I approached the first Terminal Information booth I saw. The woman sat, shoulders in a slump, a despondent look cascaded upon her face.
“Hi, excuse me, can you tell me what street Time’s Square is located?” I asked politely.
“Sure. 42nd to 47th street, along Broadway and 7th Ave,” She responded, sighing.
“And, how about Rockefeller Center?”
“Miss, you’re asking too much of me,” She pointed to the sign above her reading “Terminal Information Center”.
“It’s 48th to 53rd street, 5th and 6th ave.,” She said quickly, with an annoyed tone.
“Thank you,” I replied sternly, and walked away.
        I stepped out into the city air, excited and hopeful. Urban music surged through my feet and throughout my body. The city was like an exotic jungle to me.
My father and I walked, and he suggested we have breakfast.
“So Claire, where do you want to eat?” Asked my father.
“Umm, I don’t know, maybe a café or something,” I say.
        He ended up pointing out every food place we passed, and finally noticed the Applebee’s sign that read: NOW SERVING BREAKFAST, in large, flashy letters. So there we were, standing across the street from where we were planning to eat.
        The lovely Miss Waitress seated us near the front window at a two person table. We ordered coffee, (which was horrible, if I may add) and a man set bread in front of us. I stared at the menu, the food name, the price. Back and forth, and I finally decided that a sausage, egg, and cheese croissant was awaiting me. I told my father I was just going to run to the rest room real quick, and walked over, cell phone in hand, hand in pocket. I stood behind a pillar and speed-dialed ‘5’.

The phone rang four times. ”Hello?” Asks a woman’s voice.
I think, uh oh, this can’t be Tim. “Hi, Is Tim available?”
“Oh, Tim will be busy all today,” She replies in a heavy, Asian accent.
“Ah, Okay—“
“I can tell him you called, what’s your name?” She said, interrupting me.
“Claire,” I said, as we said our goodbyes and hung up. His mother maybe? I don’t think they left home yet…
        Our food came, and we dug in instantly! The food was as good as Applebee's got, and we relaxed for a minute, nibbling on pieces of oranges. We thanked the waitress and went on our way, leaving the dark restaurant.
        I was snapping pictures as we walked. Anything was a target-- buildings, people, the sky. There were so many foreign people walking the streets. I loved hearing laughs and remarks in different languages. A tough New Yorker pushing his way through the crowds holding a newspaper. As he shoved tourists aside, he screamed, “Fuckin' tourists, git outta New York and go back to yer own countries!” I grinned, loving the city even more. We walked past the army of skyscrapers, their hard, cold bodies standing taller than anything.
After deciding to view the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center, we walked on and spotted the Empire State Building from afar. 
"Did you know you went up there?" He said.
“No, I haven’t,”
“Yes, you were in your mother’s tummy when we went up to the top,”
I smiled.
        We stood amongst Christmas themed statues, fairies, gardens, lights, and a clear view of the skating rink. Seeing the lauging children as they ice skated, families taking group photographs and couples holding hands gave me a surge of happiness. My cell phone read 11:03. I couldn't believe I was failing my mission, so I called him back and left a message saying, “I’m near giant red ornaments and a fountain, where are you?!” 
My father insisted we go back to Times Square. To escape the cold, we wandered into the giant Toys ‘R’ Us, you know, the one with the Ferris wheel. Everything was illuminated with color; it is truly a blind man's paradise. I decided to leave another message telling him I was at the big Toys ‘R’ Us, knowing he would probably notice it. Afterwards, we decided to go into the world’s largest DVD collection store.
        I browsed through some CD’s and DVD’s. It was around noon now. My pocket was vibrating; I was being called! I quickly answered the phone.
“Hey Tim! Where are you?” I ask hastily, considering the short amount of time I had left.
“Hey, I’m actually at a rest stop right now, we kinda got a late start,” He said.
Oh no, will he get here on time?
“Oh, do you know how long you still have?” I ask.
“I think we have an hour left. How long do you have?” He replies. I looked at the time and my mood died, it was 12:15, and we are supposed to catch our bus at 1:08.
“Not too long… We have to leave at 1!” I said. We said our goodbyes and hung up. I told him I hoped he’d make it. I walked to another end of the store, trying to avoid my dad, hoping we would accidentally be late for the 1 pm bus. He found me eventually and asked if I was going to buy anything else. I shook my head.
I purchased the DVD, and he said, “Let’s go,” As I took photographs of the heart of Time’s Square, I did not notice that Lady Luck had turned her back on me. After meaningless meandering, my father said it was time to go. I had no choice but to follow him. We entered Port Authority again, but this time in a very mellow mood.
We continued walking towards our gate number. I was secretly hoping we would get lost or take a wrong turn. I pleaded with him to stay, “Just one more hour, please!!” And I got the same reply, each time. No. I sighed, and gave up. More people gathered at our gate, sitting, standing, or on their cell phone. Pigeons scavenged the dirty floor for food.
        I had run out of time.
                                                                                        • • • 
How did it end, you wonder?
Did she meet him? Did she run out of her father’s sight and lose him on purpose? Did he run to meet her at the terminal?
No. The 1:08 bus pulled up and both she and her father boarded. She took a seat and sighed, again. Goodbye, She said to the city. As her bus pulled out of city limits, her phone started to ring.

“Hello, Claire? Are you still in the city?”
“No,” she said, solemnly.
“I’m at Rockefeller Center--oh,” He said.
“I tried, I’m sorry,” she told him. He said not to worry.

They hung up. She gazed at the New York Skyline, mourning the death of stillborn memories and her hopes. She was gone.