New Year's Eve Revelries

someecards - always accurately commenting on my life

When I was younger, New Year's Eve was one of my favorite holidays. After all for most kids, there are few days when you're encouraged to stay up into the wee hours of the morning, eat lots of snacks and be surrounded by lots of intoxicated adults. However, as I became "of age," the sparkle and pizzazz that seemed to associate itself with New Year's Eve dulled, and I was left with a burgeoning sense of dread over paying for sky-rocketing cover charges and partying with my obnoxious peers. Last year, I had ventured into Boston, sequin-clad and naive. I didn't have enough vodka cranberries to render the evening enjoyable and my six-inch platforms prevented me from wearing anything other than my Uggs for the next few days after that night. 

This year, I knew I couldn't do that again. All I wanted to do was curl up on my couch and watch movies, despite the fact that I had already purchased myself a black sequin romper (yes, that's a real thing) for this year's holiday. My brother promptly informed me that I was basically disgracing my age group and that these were my only years for care-free partying and reckless behavior as I indulged in overpriced soirees (maybe not so eloquently...) So I had to decide: go out or stay in?

As much as every inch of me wanted to put on my onesie PJs and cuddle up with my dog, my sequin-romper was already purchased and hanging neatly in my closet, beckoning me to go out and play. Luckily, my closest friend had a suggestion that silenced "lazy me" -- we would go to a local bar that I have frequented on many prior occasions and spend the night at my boyfriend's, dodging the inconvenience and expense of a late night in the city, but still allowing us to get dressed up. We could avoid the $75 cover charge, $20 drinks, $50+ cab ride AND not be squeezed shoulder to shoulder in a bar, making friends with the sweaty bodies we would be forced to rub up against. It was a very good compromise and the old miser in me could agree to it.

These much more casual plans seemed fool-proof: meet up with friends, walk to the bar, have some good, old-fashioned, adult fun, then walk back to the apartment later in the evening -- hopefully, with the promise of laughs and dancing in between. But as with many carefully laid-out plans, something was likely to go awry.  

I suppose I shouldn't let this whole post be too misleading -- 90% of the night was SO much fun. I was surrounded by some great people, getting to know some new friends better while spending time with some old, familiar faces. But, like any night at a bar, the more alcohol consumed, the more likely for people to make some questionable decisions and act a bit more foolishly. I tend to giggle excessively, get really tired and eventually, get over-dramatic when drinking, but I was only at the point where I was giggling and everything was awesome for the majority of the night. However, once we rang in the New Year with hugs and kisses, the night went from carefree to annoying.

It was pretty standard as far as intoxicated girls go, minus the hair-holding. Someone drinks a bit too much and the other, slightly less drunk, is left to tend to her. This becomes borderline babysitting and can really put a damper on whatever buzz you have going on. In this case, I became the babysitter. My friend, who has since apologized (and been forgiven), was one such object of babysitting, as she is teeny-tiny and thus, incapable of having as many drinks as some of us other folk (myself NOT included). Nevertheless, at one point, I found myself outside, coatless, trying to coax my dear friend off of the ground. I clearly was not persuasive, as my friend decided to grab the hand I was offering to her and chomp down on one of my fingers -- think "Charlie Bit Me," except with two overdressed, tipsy girls. My boyfriend had come outside to give me my coat and witnessed this whole debacle, and after we finally ushered my friend off the ground and back into the bar, I then proceeded to cry. Yes, I was that girl, crying outside of a bar on New Year's Eve. The year before may have been a bit anti-climatic and not as fun, but this year, I was crying.

Things just went downhill after that. I was trying to make sure my friend got home safely via cab, after her first attempt at getting into a cab home was unsuccessful, while trying to make sure that my other friends weren't getting annoyed by having to deal with this situation. There was some falling off of stools, and then there was crying from my friend (we can all relate to being lonely and nostalgic for an ex-boyfriend on holidays, am I right? Hence, the tears), and then there was the added complication of trying to get a cab... Just to name a few issues towards the end of the night. Eventually, once I got my friend safely en route back to her apartment, I met up with my boyfriend and other friend, and proceeded to cry all the way back to his apartment. I was tired. I was a bit irritated. And even more so, I felt bad because I just wanted my friend to appreciate my efforts for the night. All the while crying, my finger throbbed and my friend's teeth marks prominently engraved themselves in my skin as a reminder of my ill-fated earlier attempt at drunk-sitting my friend.

I suppose, looking back on all of this, that I made out with considerably less drama than most people encounter during their New Year's Eve. There wasn't any puking (a New Year's miracle) or bar fights. The only evidence I had the following morning of my dramatic end to the evening was a swollen finger and a headache, presumably caused by a hangover and too much crying. At the very least, I rung in 2013 happy and excited, only to be knocked off of that perch a mere hour later after being bitten. It was a good hour though and all has been forgiven since then. After all, I made a few new friends that night (who probably don't remember me now...) AND got myself an amusing story (my friend bit my finger...come on).

What's the plan for December 31, 2013, then? I always condemn myself for waiting until the last minute to make New Year's Eve plans (I made plans the night before this year) so maybe I can use what little foresight I have now to plan something maybe even a few weeks prior to the date. Hopefully, I can avoid being mauled by my friend, and perhaps, even break out the sequin-romper again....

Wishful thinking.