Rob, a guy in a FUBU jacket from Mill Basin, Brooklyn, thought it wouldn't be so bad if the world just blew up when the ball dropped, "like three, two, one, contact . . . some terrorist deal . . . you know: Screw the IRS, screw Con Ed, ef 'em if they can't take a joke." If they wanted to bring back Guy Lombardo and all his Royal Canadians for one big, last auld lang syne-off, that was okay with Rob: "Won't be nothing to me. If the world blows up, someone will have to wake me up and tell me about it, because I am going to be dead, dead drunk!"
This was a common sentiment. "No end of the world gonna spoil the party," seconded Shondra of 109th Street and Amsterdam, who had given thought to coming to Times Square for the evening but after "some strange things that have happened" has decided instead to stay home "hiding under the bed with the police lock on." Richie, originally of Haiti, found End of Days "too stupid to be sacrilegious" but did report once having an insane girlfriend who said there was "no use going steady when the earth is about to explode." Someone joked about being put out by the world's possibly ending on December 31, since he had tickets on the 50-yard line for the New Year's Day Armageddon Bowl at the Meadowlands.
Who knew? Maybe the dot of dot-com really was the Mark of the Beast, not 666, which was just another address on Fifth Avenue. If so, would any mortal being come to the fore as a world savior, as Arnold did in End of Days? "Wouldn't be Giuliani, cause he's Satan himself," said Deborah of Whitestone. Wouldn't be Clinton either, said Ralph of the Bronx, at least not in the context presented in End of Days, " 'cause Clinton couldn't keep his dick in his pants even if the world depended on it."
No, only God could save the world, just as it said in the Good Book. Faith was our best weapon. Yet as a scriptural discussion arose, pertaining to End of Days, the weary pilgrim wondered about the depth of that faith. According to Arnold, Chapter 20, Verse 7 of the Book of Revelation says, "And when the thousand years are ended, Satan will be loosed from his prison." Was this the correct wording? someone asked. The answer was as close as the Bible in my briefcase. I keep it with me all the time now; finally, after so long, it speaks to me. But when I pulled out the book and ran my finger down the page, past the mention of the angel holding in his hand "the key to the bottomless pit and a great chain" (an obvious reference to the Times Square ball, I noted), my fellow moviegoers exchanged uneasy looks and faded into the night.
All of which goes to show that the hour is never too late to be shunned, even by Arnold fans, and left standing on 42nd Street, just one more religious nut, agog and magog, shouting of the End.
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