NYE in NYC

My New Year's Eve was a real trip -- a trip to New York City, specifically. Technically, the big day began for me at midnight (as in 24 hours before the ball dropped) when I was at a bar with Briel and eir "brown friends" (have no fear, they were all Caucasian). The bar featured a list of hundreds of thematic shots like "The Dominatrix" and "A Punch in the Face." The contents of any given shot were a mystery until you ordered it, some people wound up with tabasco sauce in theirs, so I played it safe by ordering "Peppermint Patty." The true rewards went to the adventurous orderers, however. Briel got the "Harry Potter" which was first lit on fire with a magic wand; Briel's friend got my personal favorite, the "Top Gun," where upon they put an aviator hat on eir head and interrupted the music in the bar to play "Highway to the Danger Zone." Afterwards, we made our way to a 24-hour diner where I got a plate of chicken fingers I couldn't finish. Not wanting to pay 50 cents for the take out bin, I wrapped my remaining chicken finger in a napkin and put it in my coat pocket, earning a mixed reaction of chagrin and amusement from the "brown friends." I was afraid on the way home, however, that the scent of chicken my disproportionally attract bums on the 'bway. All Briel asked was that I wouldn't accidentally leave the chicken in eir house, which of course is exactly what I did the following morning. Whoops! Thanks for the hospitality, Briel, enjoy the finest appendage of a chicken.

A bit before noon, I took the 'bway to meet up with RJ. I was hesitant to get off at a stop that I'm still not sure whether was the right place for me to get off, and ended up having the doors close on my backpack, clearly identifying me as a tourist. I got a bunch of glares and I tried to lighten the situation by saying, "Well looks like I get to keep riding with you!" At last, the doors reopened to free my bag and I sprinted out in embarrassment.

After seeing eir apartment, conveniently located next to a garden provided by Bette Midler (don't salivate all at once now, unless it's on the plants, it keeps them healthy), RJ and I walked about 40 blocks to a rare NYC place that serves stiff $3 drinks. I expressed a bit of concern toward starting to drink at 2 in the afternoon, but since I didn't have to drive and it was a holiday, I was convinced otherwise. We stayed there for a couple hours and when we got up to move again, I nearly couldn't stand. We then walked to another bar that served frozen margaritas (it was a Monday after all) that came on a recommendation from West Coast Margarita Monday-er Spencer. There, Ted joined up with us, and after three margaritas and a complimentary holiday shot, I was ready for 2008 to just be here already; I didn't have much party left in me.

Afterwards, we got on the 'bway and shared a car with some 40-year-olds decked out in cheesy New Year's apparrel. I struck up a conversation with one of them; it was eir birthday. We chatted plasantly for a few stops, slapping each other's knees in playful glee. Oddly, that was probably the closest I came to getting a New Year's Eve kiss. I can only successfully flirt in remarkably inappropriate situations.

After parting ways with my love, we went to meet Michael Michael at eir brother's hotel, but since it was close to Times Square, the blocks were barricaded. While being blocked, Ted had a bag of $60 worth of unopened alcohol confiscated from em by a police officer. Unwilling to lose so much in an unfair situation, Ted pulled off a master feat of heroics by grabbing the bag back from the officer and fleeing. Certainly a risky, drunk move, but one that paid off, fortunately. Proof of a room key finally gained us entrance to the blocks where a mob of impatient other people were not permitted to go. Who's suddenly a New Year's hot shot? Who's stumbling while ey walks past the other suckers? This guy!

The party was fun, but I warned people I couldn't accept any alcohol without the risk of vomiting. We stayed there for a while, then Ted brought RJ and I to another party several blocks away. I'm sure it would have been more fun were I not too intoxicated to effectively communicate with strangers. Still, it was worth going to if only for the peanut butter and chocolate fudge. We watched the ball drop on the television, which struck me as particularly perplexing considering we could have relocated less than a mile away and seen it with our own eyes. Shortly after that, I found a DVD in between couch cushions entitled Preparing for the GRE and thought it would be hilarious to discreetly start playing it on the television. The party's host caught me in the process, however, and I heard people whispering "Who is this guy?" at which point I started feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed. I tried to get RJ to leave with me, and though ey kept saying yes, ey never got up to move, so I finally just left.

I couldn't find the original hotel, however, and walked and walked unsuccessfully. After about an hour of frantically searching, I realized I was cold, because I was no longer wearing my coat. Shoot, I had left my coat at that other party, which was also troublesome for me to find. Twice, I asked for help from strangers, but both times they didn't speak English. The third person I asked was friendly and linked arms with me and took me to where I needed to go. I retrieved my coat and found RJ had already left. I made another attempt to find the hotel where Jessica and Michael Michael were. Finally, I found it. I went to the elevator, where upon hotel security followed me to the second floor. "Where are you going?" ey asked. "The 33rd floor," I answered. "There is no 33rd floor here," ey explained. I felt like an idiot, since this was not the right hotel, but the security person was so kind in the way ey escorted me off the premises, I felt a little better. At last, I stumbled (literally and figuratively) upon the right place just as Michael Michael and Jessica exited the building to come find me. I had been lost and wandering a 10 block radius for about two hours and was exhausted.

While a party went on inside, I promptly fell asleep in an armchair. At 4 am, I woke up and was so perplexed by one person's unflagging energy that I had to ask how ey did it. This person had no qualms admitting ey was on Adderall. Only then did I realize that a lot of people were actually on Adderall; I had been offered some earlier, but laughed at it, assuming it was a joke.

Meanwhile, RJ had similarly gotten lost on the streets of NYC. A small posse went out to locate em, but never found em. Somehow, RJ must have made it home as ey woke up in eir own bed, but none of us are sure how ey managed it. Apparently, Ted also managed to get lost, ending up on an island (what or where that means, I'm still not sure exactly) with a man who claimed his wife had kicked him out and called the police after he refused to have sex with her. Alas, sequences of events that would probably make for amazingly entertaining stories are most likely forever lost due to hazy memory.

At about 6 am, Jessica, Michael Michael, and I went to stay in Jessica's friend's room. Only Jessica's friend wasn't there. Flash Light was there, though. Flash Light is a conceptual artist who lives amongst piles of junk and unconventional art and rents a room out to Jessica's friend. Never in a million years would I guess I'd end my night at a place like this one; the full oddness of the situation didn't actually strike me until the morning's semi-sobriety.

So that was my New Year's Eve. Maybe a bit to eventful, but a stark contrast from last year's New Year's Evein solitude in Utah. Next year, I'm going to shoot for something in between.