I really hate New Year’s Eve.
I don’t like big crowds, especially not drunken ones, and I’m not such a fan of loud noises, either. Big, drunk crowds, loud noises, and a sparkly ball that doesn’t actually herald anything remotely to do with time…ugh. Holidays of renewal used to be about birth and ritual impregnation of young women and the moon cycle. Not anymore. Now it’s all empty rituals and booze and the highly unritualized impregnation of some young drunk thing.
Holidays in New York are particularly heinous because people flock here to be drunk and crowd-y. Remember Halloween? I can only imagine that Times Square is 8 trillion times worse than anything I’ve experienced, and will continue to merely imagine it since hell and the highest water could never get me within 10 20 23 subway stops of all that madness.
In my perfect world, I would spend December 31st cooking adorable canapes and puffs, and slicing fruits for delectable cocktails featuring sparkling wines and pomegranate. I would clean my house, borrow chairs from our neighbors, and spend a ridiculous amount of time on my hair. People would come over. We would eat, drink, feel extremely merry, maybe play a game or two. The ball would drop. I’d bring out the chocolate-covered strawberries, a little port or liquor, make some coffee for a hot toddy. Basically it would be the greatest NYE of all time. Ever.
This Thursday evening, I will certainly find myself in an overcrowded-is-an-understatement, overpriced-was-$10-ago bar with my boyfriend and his brother and his brother’s girlfriend. There won’t be canapes or puffs or pomegranates anywhere.
And I think I’ll be perfectly content.
I have a history of being a fuddy-duddy about parties. You can tell that that’s true because only fuddy-duddies use the term “fuddy-duddy.” I don’t like crowds. I never feel like I have the right clothes. Drunk people annoy me (yeah, that DOES include drunk me, and mmhmmm, I DID think of that). But this year, after slipping into my traditional fuddy-duddy-ness, I woke up to a very important fact: I’m totally full of shit.
Something I’ve learned this year is that most experiences are more terrifying and horrific in my mind than they are in real life (e.g., driving on the FDR, signing a lease with my boyfriend, paying a bill late (it totally wasn’t my fault, Time Warner, just to be clear)). So I have to believe that if I got out of my own way and just embraced the whole, crazy mess life brings, I’d be a happier, more fearless, less fuddy-duddy-ish person.
I still think a class-tastic party at home is a phenomenal NYE option, and someday I will have it my way. But for this year, I’m closing ’09 and welcoming ’10 (OH-ten? Are we doing that?) with an open mind and softened heart, even if it means an emptier wallet and the inevitable violation of my personal comfort zone.
Happy New Year, everyone. Don’t be a fuddy-duddy.
“Something I’ve learned this year is that most experiences are more terrifying and horrific in my mind than they are in real life.”
Please staple this to my face.
2009 was me trying to do things out of my comfort zone, so it felt like this may be the year I spend it in Times Square. I hate crowds too, and FYI they do not allow alcohol into the Times Square area on NYE. However a visit the night before was just awful and a visit the next morning did not make me change my mind. Mostly that had to do with the weather but it did give me an idea that it could be fun under the right circumstances. Maybe next NYE? House parties are fun but doing them every year is not that great either. Variety is the spice of life…