My current work contract length will put me in New York city for two New Year’s Eves. However, my older sister is getting married on New Years next year, so this year (welcoming in 2007) may
be my only one. Allison’s friend (now my friend) Kristen arrived from Rhode Island around noon on Sunday. Allison, Kristen, and I headed out for some shopping and sightseeing before stopping back to my place to get ready for the evening. Our last stop was Rockefeller center/Radio city music hall. We were at 50th and 6th Ave. and I live at 45th and 8th Ave. Well police were blocking off the streets around Times square (45th and 7th Ave.) but we figured we would be able to bypass the commotion being 5 blocks above. Nope! The streets up north were all blocked off. I told the police officers that I lived at 45th and just wanted to cross 7th Ave. in order to get to my place (basically didn’t want anything to do with times square). They told me to try the next street up. Well the next street up, I explained the situation again. This time the cop asked to see my drivers’ license to verify my address. Since I just moved to NY three months ago and I don’t drive, I haven’t updated my license. He then asked for a bill or a piece of mail (like I carry one around). All I could offer him was my house keys to which he just laughed at. Sucks for me! The three of us kept trying street after street giving the same explanation at each intersection. At one point I thought we would need to walk all the way up to the park in order to get across 7th Ave. Finally at 56th street, I again told my sob story to the cop (we are tired from walkin
g around, hungry, cold, and just want to get back to my apartment). He said “45th, what the heck are you doing way up here?” Thankfully he escorted us (he he he police escort) to 8th Ave. Althought we were on my street, it was no peach walking down it. The sidewalks were wall-to-wall people in various stages of drunk, B.O. smelling, horn blowing (both the mouth horn and boat horn….die people die) thus making it almost impassible.
After an 11 block detour and 90 minutes later, we finally arrived at my apartment. Thankfully, Allison and Kristen let me play fashion show and they assisted me in picking out a New Year’s outfit (consisting of a fun blue top, black skirt, fishnet hose, and 4 inch heels). We hopped on the subway and headed up to the upper west side for Jody’s (friend of Vivienne’s) new years eve party. Now this girl was really excited to throw a party because she bought a case of champaign, eight bottles of wi
ne, and other various bottles of hard liquor. In addition to her stock, everyone showed up with a bottle or two. Now for a NYE party, this seems like a good amount of liquor….if the party consisted of more than 12 people! Well maybe 15 at its highpoint. I got cornered talking with some creepy Asian guy where as I pawned him off on Kristen while refilling our glasses (sorry girl). When Marshall finally showed up 30 minutes late (note to self, must always expect Marshall to be late), I gave him a big hug to send a huge back off signal to the Asian dude. He evidently chugged a pint of Jim Bean and coke in the cab ride over (note to self, never let Marshall chug a pint of Jim Bean again). When he poured his first drink of 7&7, Vivienne commented on his drink mixing ability (basically all whisky with a splash of soda).
Around 11pm, we left the lame (sorry but it was) party and traveled to the upper east side Blondie’s bar to meet up with the gang (Ali, Brean, Farrell, Bethany). Immediately upon walking in, Bethany handed us all
drinks. We watched the ball drop on the television. Now during the days leading up to NYE, I was thinking about checking out the times square thing just because this may be my only NYE in New York. I say this because my work contract (and the main reason I am here) is long enough to enjoy two NYE in NY but next year’s NYE I will be in Jamaica attending my older sister’s wedding. After fighting the crowds to get back to my place, I figured times square could just go to hell. People were getting there before 6pm and I think they closed it all off (in wise) by 8pm. Okay people, I bet you have been drinking and there are no restrooms in times square…so what do you do? I heard horror stories afterwards of people peeing on the ground or in plastic soda bottles. Yes that is how I want to spend my NYE, packed in a huge smelly, loud, drunk crowd while some guy pees on my shoe….um pass!
Okay back to the bar party. The turning point of the night (turning point meaning when I realized my friends were wasted) was when Kristen fell off a bar stool. One minute she was sitting there next to me, and the next she was flat on her but on the ground. Ali and Marshall started bumping and grinding on each other (maybe 70/30 straight/gay…hmmm). Meanwhile, the girls were going picture crazy (looooove drunk pictures). Around 1am, Kristen and Allison were tired (and wasted sleepy drunk). I grabbed Allison’s hand and wrote the address of my apartment as well as directions to tell the cabbie in order to avoid the mass traffic chaos surrounding times square. We hailed a cab, and I saw them off. Sad that Kristen (the bar stool faller) was the more sober of th
e two. Evidently, Allison said she didn’t feel well and puked in the car and got a fat lip trying to roll down the window and puke out the cab. The cabbie stopped them short of the destination (don’t know how far away) and shoved them out. Kristen gave him a fat “sorry she puked in your cab” tip. Ah ha ha ha. In the morning, they realized that they both had left their cameras at the bar. In addition, Allison had grabbed the wrong coat on her way out. Actually it is quite funny because she grabbed Ali’s coat which is short, black, and a man’s coat where as Allison’s is long, gray, blue scarf, oh and a girl’s coat. He he he. Her misfortune does not end there. She had puked all over one sleeve it. No worries, I had it cleaned and swapped it with Ali (who in turn took her coat home since it was th
e only one left at the end of the night) a few days later.
While these girls were having their little adventure, I was back at the bar babysitting the boyfriend. The giant quantities of whiskey had reduced him to slumped up against the wall with his chin down and eyes closed. I have come to know that pose (the drunker he is, the lower the chin goes). Time to leave. The treacherous thing was that the bar party was at the top of some very steep and deadly looking stairs. Now I have the task to get this guy who cannot walk and out weighs me by 50 lbs down the stairs while I am in 4 inch heels! After 10 or so glasses of wine, I sobered up real quick! He refused my help or my urgings to hold on to the hand rail, so I had to trick him. I grabbed the back of
his jacket with one hand and clutched the railing with the other. I then took it one small step at a time. He didn’t realize I was holding on and even asked why it was taking ME so long! I lied and said, “oh honey, I am wearing heels so I have to walk real slow”. Whatever.
We got outside were I propped him up against the wall. I then went back in to say my goodbyes. When I returned, he was a hair away from passing out (standing up). Ali and Brean gave their goodbye hugs (where as Marshall tried to kiss Ali….70/30 I am telling you). I pulled the boy off the wal
l so we could try to get a cab. He took two steps and then collapse on the ground. While down there, he shouted to me (with a very surprised and shocked face) “you pushed me!” What!!! That is when I roughly pulled him up back on his feet while planning ways to inflict pain to his genitals. I tossed him into the back of a cab and we took off. You know when kids are trying to act all stealth but it just comes out obvious and humorous, well that is how Marshall was acting. He wanted to grab my chest, so he would stare at it and slowly reach his far arm around and zone in on it. I’m sitting there watching him (trying not to laugh) and just when he would get close I would say (in my best Mom tone) “Marshall!” He would grin and look sheepish (like I didn’t see it coming) before trying it again 30 seconds later. The cab dropped us off a block from his apartment. He was stumbling around shouting “where are we, you got us lost, we are so lost right now”. Idiot! We popped into the all night grab and go diner to satisfy a massive food craving. I again propped him up on the wall and ordered. Again picture the look a child gives you when they get caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Well as I was down the counter paying, I look up to see him with one foot out the door. I shout (again in my best Mom tone) “Marshall!” and he gives me this “uh-oh, I got caught sneaking out” surprised look. It was really hard not to laugh at him because I should be really pissed. I grabbed the food and we headed back to his apartment. He seriously could not walk, so I again tried to help him (to which he refused). I had to finally use the line “put your arm around your girlfriend like a good boy should”. When he did, I latched on to the arm and drug him back. People on the street were saying “whoa, they must have had a good time” since he was walking all over the place and I was trying to overcorrect for it. Did I mention I was in 4 inch heels? Anyway, I have officially (in my mind) settled the score for the night at Butter.
Happy New Year’s everyone! ....hurrah for ads, they put it all in perspective.