Usually, at 9P.M., it’s either I am back in my place in Brooklyn, or out seeing usual faces around. That night, I caught myself heading home for an early night cap, but then I decided not just yet.
Soon as I got back at my friend’s apartment — I grabbed my helmet from my desk, rushed downstairs carefully, not making too much noise because the slab is made up of wood that one move can make a resonating sound, and then crossed the street towards the lamppost where I latched my friend’s bicycle that same morning. By this time, I was already plotting how to get to the nearest park. Which park should I see the skyline from? Is it safe riding a bicycle at night in Brooklyn? Am I gonna make it alive tonight? I was partly anxious but my endorphins are running high.Â
I went on towards Hoyt Street turning left at the Atlantic Avenue until I make a right at the Bridge Park Drive. In 15 minutes, I could already see the skyline of Manhattan. It was not too cold but I made a wrong choice for opting for shorts instead of a pair of jeans. My legs could easily freeze on my dry fit. I didn’t mind it too much, though. I looked for a nearby parking rack, locked my bicycle, and went to the Brooklyn Ice Cream Factory, engaged in a small talk with the parlor’s staff, went towards one of the benches, saw Jane’s Carousel barely having even a strand of hair on its platform, and finished my ice cream while looking at this view.
Brooklyn Bridge Park, New York, October 2019
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