Ghosts of New Year's Eves Past

It's that time of year again.    Every third conversation in the next few days will be about New Year's Eve: "what are you doing" -or-  "what did you do?"    I often feel compelled to have a response that is at least a little bit interesting and I usually do.  I've had lots of fun New Year's Eve celebrations, but those are not what this posting is about today.  This post is about those New Year's Eve celebrations that were, uh, weird. 

• A couple of years ago, I went to Dubai for New Year's Eve.  Dubai is known for having one of the world's most spectacular New Year's Eve celebrations with fun-filled festivities and amazing fireworks displays.  My friend, Heather, had recently moved there and I thought it would be very cool to celebrate the New Year with her in her new home in a big way.  It's a long and expensive flight to Dubai from NYC, but it was okay because I was very excited about what was to come.  I couldn't wait to throw myself into all the city had to offer.  I was all aflutter like a little kid. (Pause) In solidarity with some fighting somewhere, Sheik What's-his-name canceled all New Year's Eve celebrations that year. (sigh)

• About 25 years ago, I spent New Year's Eve in my robe on the stairs outside my apartment (but inside the building). I was living in a brownstone in Harlem.  There were three floor-through apartments and I (and my roommate) lived on the second floor.    For a reason that I can no longer remember, I left my apartment --barefoot and in my robe-- to borrow something from one of my neighbors. (Yeah, it was that kind of building. We were all friends).   By instinct, I shut the door behind me.   That was not a good move.   My heart sank, immediately.   I was locked out.  My roommate was away.   The neighbor I was going to borrow from turned out not to be home nor was anybody else in the building.  This was in the days before cellphones.    I was supposed to meet my date at a restaurant that was about mid-way between my house and his.  After a bite to eat, we were going to a big gala at The Puck Building in Soho.  But I was locked out, no shoes, and no clothes.  And I stayed that way until my landlord came home around 2:00a.  The guy that I "stood up" didn't believe my story and never spoke to me again. I didn't really blame him.  I wouldn't have believed me, either.

•  Last year, I wasn't really in the mood for a party.  I wanted something fun but quiet.  I had just started dating a widower who was spending New Year's Eve with his kids, so I decided to spend the evening with my good friend, A.  She had been working like a dog and we hadn't seen each other in awhile so hanging out with her seemed like exactly the kind of evening I was looking for.  I got to her house about 10:30p.  She had cooked a nice dinner and it was fun chowing down, having a few cocktails, and just catching up.   Long story short, I noticed that A had gotten pretty quiet and I was doing all the talking.   Then I heard a soft zzzzz.   It was 11:15p and A was fast asleep.  I mean in a seriously deep sleep that she wasn't budging from.   So there I sat.   At midnight, the Guy called to wish me a Happy New Year, we chatted for a few minutes, and I looked over at A.   She was still out.   I tiptoed out.  I was back home by 12:30a.  I think my doorman felt sorry for me.

• A year or two after I bought my vacation home, I had a lovely New Year's Eve there with my beau and his dog.   Out in the country, a dusting of snow on the ground, a fire burning.  It was sweet.  There's not much of a story here...except that spending the evening with his dog is the reason I now have my dog.

Happy New Year, everybody!!

Photo: Courtesy ajitkumar.org

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