New Year’s Eve- What is it good for?

Everyone I know seems to make a big deal out of New Year’s Eve.

What are you doing for New Year’s?  Where are you going?  Blah, blah blah.

In truth, I think New Year’s Eve is overrated.

GASP.

Yes.  It always starts with high hopes, bright lights, and shiny new high heels, until you realize there is nowhere to park, there’s a mile-long line and cover charge to get into the restaurant/bar, and it’s starting to snow.  You’re forced to wait outside for approximately half an hour in clothes that should NOT be worn on one of the coldest nights of the year*, only to end up in a crowd of people you don’t know or like, while your date is stuck in line for another half hour trying to get the bartender’s attention.   More and more people crowd into the establishment to drink overpriced drinks until you are standing shoulder-to-shoulder with some very sweaty strangers.  Your shoes start hurting your feet, and though you’re starving, you only have a handful of cold appetizers your date was able to grab in the mad crush of glitter and noise-makers.  You literally stare at these people for hours with nothing to say- that is unless you’re drunk- and there is always a crying girl in the corner of the bathroom, with her entourage trying to soothe her and blocking 95% of the bathroom stalls, while her date is causing a scene by pounding on the bathroom door and yelling obscenities at other patrons.

When the ball finally drops, there are a few moments of good cheer- but then?  Someone always spills their drink down the front of your shirt while hugging their best friend, which causes them to lose their balance, and end up stepping on your unprotected toes with their spiked heels.   The walk back to the car is slippery because the snow has turned to ice, and you start to think the shrimp you ate off of the buffet line might have been a little past its prime.

You finally fall into bed at 12:35am, still clothed but sans shoes that were left in the car, realizing only moments later you have to puke.

I can see why we do this every year. 

*At least, if you’re a woman.

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