Oh New Year's Eve, How I Hate You
I remember the New Year's Eve that my best friend and I (both 13 at the time) poured Sprite into champagne classes and smoked clove cigarettes behind my house to toast the New Year.
Even as a 13-year-old, I knew it was a pretty lame New Year's Eve but no matter, I had years to perfect this holiday! I could tell from TV commercials and movies, that people were having crazy amounts of fun on New Year's Eve and I wanted a piece of it. It was like my own personal American dream. No picket fence required.
As a teenager, I did manage to lose a shoe, an earring and my night guard at one particularly raucous New Year's sleepover. But ever the perfectionist, I needed a whole lot more than a missing night guard to satisfy my lofty New Year's expectations. I wanted to fall in love on New Year's! Or kiss Ralph Macchio! Or be invited up on stage at a Milli Vanilli concert. You know, something BIG.
In my twenties and thirties, I gave up the the dream of making out with the Karate Kid but tried Times Square, club parties and ski vacations as ways to welcome the new year. I pretty much found extremely overpriced, mediocre nights that just resulted in bad hangovers. This wasn't working. Why was I trying so hard?! It was just one night. I needed a change of course. Something radical.
So one year, my husband and I decided to stay home. We ordered take-out, fired up the television and even folded laundry. Tucked away in our apartment, just 30 blocks from Times Square, we watched the ball drop on TV. This was really inexpensive. With no hangover. And it was totally depressing.
Oh how I hate you New Year's Eve!
And then finally a December 31st miracle! We had moved to the suburbs and were invited by some new friends to a New Year's Eve house party. And it was awesome. It had great food, cocktails and a kick-ass band. My husband and I danced all night and I felt like I had finally found it - that magical New Year's Eve that I had longed for since childhood. And hopefully, I had a rockin' New Year's Eve plan for years to come.
And then that couple started divorce proceedings. So it seems like future parties are definitely off.
My husband and I still don't know what our plan is for this year. We might just stay home. I'm pregnant anyway and he has to work early the next day. So maybe I could just drink some Sprite. He can smoke a few clove cigarettes. We'll fold some laundry and call it a night. And next year, I'll resume my search for the perfect, most amazing New Year's Eve. I just know it's out there somewhere.