Central Park

Sam Wespiser

Ms. Webb

English III

15 October 2015

Central Park     

     I trudged through the piled up snow on the sidewalk. Central Park had always been my favorite place to take peaceful walks but on this night it seemed more like a nightmare. Strong, brisk winds whipped across the Atlantic and into the streets. I couldn’t see more than ten feet ahead of me. It was the biggest storm the city had ever seen. I was not prepared. I knew the storm was coming but I didn’t know what time and I didn’t know how much. It all came so suddenly. The winds blew straight through my khaki pants and light jacket, which were far from enough clothing to weather this storm. The windy snow would hit me like a brick wall and I tried to walk through it. My whole face was numbed by the cold.

     My walk home was quite a distance ahead of me. I had to make a decision -- walk back to my apartment, or find the safest place to wait out the storm. I kept walking north towards my neighborhood just chipping away at the long trek ahead of me. The wind continued to get stronger and the snow continued falling thicker. My feet were now deeper into the snow with every step. It was up to my knees. All my surroundings were getting a heftier layer of snow over them. The light blanket of snow on everything had become a heavy white comforter. The Central Park I knew was gone, lost. Snow muffled all sounds of civilization. Lamp posts and street signs were becoming hard to spot. Their once dark poles were now white toothpicks which disappeared into the white all around while fierce winds plastered snow to the bulbs and street names. Sidewalks were being hidden, benches were no longer visible. I could see a big open space with no trees. It must have been The Lake. I had a general idea of where I was but I kept expecting to come across a tree I recognized or a sign to assure me that I knew where I was. Lights from the lamp posts crept through the downpour of snow and reflected the smallest bit of light off of the white wonderland. I didn’t want to let myself believe that I was lost. I thought I knew this place. I thought I could get myself home.

     Now the doubt began to sink in. I was truly lost in a place I used to call home. Now it was far from home. It was a whole new world. There were no signs of life anywhere near me. My decision had been made for me. I couldn’t continue to get deeper into the storm. I had to stay here and wait it out. There was no other choice. The blizzard raged on which didn’t give me any confidence in my ability to survive it out in the open. I had to find shelter. Walking was not easy. Picking up my feet to take the next step wasn’t automatic. My legs were tired from dragging them along through the slushy snow. At this point, every bit of light that I saw was hope for a bus stop booth, a gazebo, or just a bench with a light above it. I tried to keep my head up and look forward for what lay ahead. The wind got more painful with every gust that hit my face. I was able to walk for only a few minutes at a time before stopping behind a tree to barricade myself from the wind.

     Progress had been made. I had to have cut the distance down between me and shelter by now. I sat down and laid against the base of a large tree. After about ten minutes, I decided to start running. The temperature was dropping rapidly and I couldn’t sit around anymore. As I ran, I saw the slightest bit of light in the distance ahead of me. Or did I? Yes, I saw that sliver of light becoming brighter and brighter as I closed the gap. This was my chance. The light became rectangular -- getting larger and larger. The only thing between me and the light now was the white wall of snow. The home stretch, I told myself.

     I came up to a bus stop and threw myself into the heated booth. The relief was unreal. I lay on my stomach with my face against the cold hard ground. The concrete was wet. I felt a blast of heat as I stood up. Bright orange heaters were releasing waves of heat from the roof of the shelter. I felt like a frozen piece of bread being thawed in a toaster. I let out a huge sigh of relief then soon after I heard, “You cold son?” in a deep raspy voice coming from directly over my shoulder.

     Scrambling across the ground to keep my distance I turned my head and looked up behind me. “Does it look like I’m cold?” I let some serious sass escape my lips before I realized who I was talking to. “I’m sorry sir, I am just very, very cold.”

     “It’s alright kid. I was out there earlier.” This man was large. Very large. I was looking for any tree I recognized earlier and now it felt like I was talking to a tree that I had never seen.

     “Are the buses running right now?” I asked.

     “I think they’re trying to. They’ll do the best they can. You’re on 79th, they can’t just not run the buses through here.”

     Just seconds later I saw car lights peering through the snowfall and reflecting off the glass walls of the heated booth. The lights were approaching fast. Maybe a little too fast. It looked as if they were just going to fly right past us. I was worried. Now the lights turned straight toward us. I knew there were no curves on this road. I was worried for myself now. A bus turned perpendicular to us and came barreling at us, sliding across the ice like a huge hockey puck. I had just become the goalie. I scurried to the far side of the booth and held on to the bench and this stranger as we screamed for our lives. All of the glass shattered and we saw our lives flash before our lives. Glass flying at me and a bus sliding toward me. I grasp even tighter to a person I’ve never really even met before. My life flashed before my eyes. The side of the bus screeched against the steel pole on the front corner of the bus stop. The bus tipped on its side and skidded across the concrete surface in the front of the shelter. Could this night get any worse?