Ethan’s Visit

Its 6:30 am outside the air is thin, crisp, pure and faithful to its winter morning. The evening past has brought upon more snow, which now travels lightly through the sky giving the illusion that it may still be snowing. The City seems so pure full of white flakes that have vanquished all wrong doings and has given it a new canvas for tourist to dream upon.

After looking out the window for hours Ethan decided to get dressed and brave this new and exciting place. He looked at himself in the mirror with his eye’s peeking out from under his bluish hat.  On his way out he looked into the mirror towards the left of the door; it was if Spider-man was standing in front of him. Taking a second look underneath all the wrapping Ethan could only see his ocean blue eyes. He barely recognized the image reflecting back at him. Out he went trenching through the snow he could not believe how beautiful it all seemed.

So many people filled the sidewalks, laughter sidewalks laughter, screaming, beeping; cars and people alike everything and everyone seemed to be part of the Indy 500 going at the same pace … fast.  Ethan on the other hand wanted to enjoy the scene.Following in the footsteps of the typical tourist that visits New York City; Ethan took pictures of every major attraction in hopes of keeping this memorable visit vividly in the present. Block by block snap by snap he admired and recorded his new memories. His mouth began to salivate as he slightly inhaled the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. D & D lured him.

As the sky had started to change colors Ethan couldn’t help to simply stop and watch the sky go from orange to red to an orangy-red color, eventually a navy blue color set in to greet the evening. Turning on to 42nd Street was as if he had sketched himself into the brochure the travel agent had given him. All the lights around town shine so bright and so proud; it’s just like the pictures in his brochures. Suddenly Ethan is pushed out the way retracting him from the brochure. He turns around quickly only to be met by a swarm of people rushing to catch the train. Ethan’s heart began to pump faster and faster, his hands felt clammy, while his thoughts were all jumbled up. He could not believe how everyone disappeared so quickly into the tunnel. Back home he could only witness this by watching movies. Moving out of the oncoming pedestrian’s way he lowered his scarf to take a few breaths and quickly covered his mouth. For a brief moment he felt disoriented, until he found Toys“R”Us shifting him back to the brochure. But it was all forgotten as the neon lights began to shine for miles. The yellow cabs were here hailed and full of people traveling up and down the avenue, as Chicago O’Hare’s airport during the holiday seasons. That just doesn’t seem to die down.

In and out the stores he went looking for items to take back home. The streets and sidewalks were still busy; as he turned down a block he noticed people dressed in their Sunday clothes as his mom would say back home, rushing and making lines to enter the theaters. Two blocks down were street vendors painting caricatures for passerby; he decided to have one made to remember his trip.

After hours of walking and sightseeing, Ethan decided to make his way back to his rented room to
unload. He poured himself a glass of red wine, took off his boats, and sat down by the window. Sipping from the glass of wine, he glanced out the window to admire the path that he had traveled. Suddenly small, gentle, light body white flakes begin to take over the City once again. The sidewalks tried to stay uncovered, but to no avail; the cement was no longer a challenge for the snow.  Ethan looks at the clock on the table it’s 10:25 pm. He continues to stare out the window as a new canvas is created for the next tourist to dream upon. Before turning in, he wrote in the guest book, which had been left by his bed side to sign by all guests. In it he wrote: to the City that gives blank canvases for all to dream upon.


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