The beach at Fort DeRussy Park is a good spot, quieter than the rest of the strip.
It's getting close, dropping like a stone. A big yellow burning gaseous stone.
Down in front!
Okay, good.Two guys started talking about the "green flash," and whether tonight was a good night for it. I missed it a few nights earlier, perhaps because I had too soon rendered my retinas temporarily blob-struck. Some claimed to have seen it.
Supposedly in the second(s) after sunset, the longer wave-length blue-green light makes a last desperate grab to stay in the present day, and a green crescent, or even an upward-shooting ray can be seen.
This night I was ready for it. A good night, clear horizon, calm weather, no deer-like staring at the thing.
December 31, 2013: I watched the sun go down from exactly the same spot, the sun setting on the year. When it sank into the sea, the beach erupted in cheers as if it were the ball in Times Square, which, given the time difference it may as well have been. There were no green-flash exclamations or musings. Everyone was probably already drunk.
There it goes, and faster than you would expect. You know how a cough drop melts away in your mouth if you have the patience not to chomp it to bits, how that last little bit is one second there, and then gone?
This time, no one cheered. Ho hum, another day over, mumble about what to do next.
But do you see it? The green flash. Had the camera shutter opened a split-second earlier, it would have been clearer in the picture, because it was there. I saw it through the view-finder.