It’s the last day of 2008, so in the absence of anything better to write about, let’s go back in the annals of time and revisit New Year’s Eve Past, shall we?
There was the time, when I was a student and worked at a local restaurant, that I was asked – no, begged! – to work New Year’s Eve. Although my boyfriend and I had plans, the restaurant was closing at 9:30 pm, so I figured I could make a few extra dollars and still get to the downtown club before midnight. What I forgot was that I hadn’t quite finished sewing the slinky dress that I planned to wear, and had, in fact, been counting on that afternoon to do it. So there I was, during my break at work, frantically hemming the dress and trying to keep it clean. I got home shortly after 10 pm, my boyfriend was there waiting for me (furious, of course) – but I still wasn’t finished. I also had to press the dress and do my hair and makeup. We just barely made it to the club before midnight – and the relationship petered out not long after that, as I recall.
Then there was the time my (different) boyfriend and I were going on a New Year’s Eve party cruise in the harbour. First of all, by the time the queue snaked up to the buffet table, there was very little food left. Drinks were, naturally, way overpriced, and worse, so watered down that you were literally sipping water. The music was broadcast through speakers so horrible that you could rarely identify the song. The ship was scarily overcrowded, so it could only go out a ways into the harbour and anchor there – so of course, we were all captive. My friend Lynne muttered dramatically, over and over, “Someone is going to die here tonight.” In the end, no one did, but no one had a lot of fun, either.
There was a house party I attended once, where I had to go to the bathroom very badly, so I stormed in the unlocked door – and interrupted two women doing a line of cocaine. Naive little me, I’d never even seen cocaine before, and didn’t quite know how to react. I think I mumbled something incoherent and backed away slowly. I think I even forgot how badly I had to pee.
When I was married, we had been invited to another house party (totally different social circle, thank goodness!). The Ex was suffering from an extreme bout of depression, and I was at my wits’ end dealing with him. I so badly wanted to get out of the house and go to the party, but I worried about the wisdom of leaving him at home with our young daughter. I ended up calling the hosts of the party with some excuse as to why we wouldn’t be there, then I poured myself a stiff drink or three, cried my eyes out, and watched taped episodes of Seinfeld till 2 in the morning, all by myself. The Ex eventually apologized, but refused treatment for depression (Him: “I’m just moody, that’s all! Anybody can be in a bad mood sometimes!!” Me: “Not for two weeks and holed up in the spare bedroom, they can’t.”). I eventually left him. I think he’s still depressed.
But there have been some good New Year’s Eves too: hanging out with my brother, sister-in-law, and her son drinking and laughing and telling stories, canoodling in various places with Porsche Guy, watching a marathon of James Bond DVDs, and my all-time favourite, sitting in box seats watching the Toronto Maple Leafs play the Vancouver Canucks one year. I was wearing my brand-new original Canucks jersey (and getting quite a bit of male attention for it, too!), throwing back drink after drink procured at our private bar, running back and forth to our private bathroom after every drink (I pee a lot when there’s alcohol involved, okay?!), and not even caring that PG was going to rub it in all year about his beloved Leafs beating the hometown Canucks. Ah, that was a perfect moment!
And this year? PG and I are going, with two other couples, to see Trooper perform. Hopefully we’ll be home by midnight because I have high expectations for another perfect moment, punctuated with champagne.
Happy New Year, all!