Regarding the yearly what to do on New Years, I wrote this piece for a small entertainment magazine a few years back. Endulge me if you have the time...
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Article: New Year’s Eve
Date: November 16, 1999
Author: D. Olsen
What are my Y2K party plans? Well, let me tell you. My friends and I are getting into the newly-refurbished space shuttle Columbia and climbing to an altitude of 80,000 feet where we get to sky write our names with burning rocket propellant while dropping commemorative Year 2000 stamps soaked in LSD. Then we’re going to set down next to the Statue of Liberty, which has been hollowed out and turned into a dance club. Elvis Presley (not that young, skinny mother-fucker, but the super-cool fat guy from Vegas) is going to come back from the dead and spin handbag house on four turntables. It’s going to be free beer and all the sheep you can eat! Since we know the bouncers they’re going to let us take folding lawn chairs up to the very top of Lady Liberty’s torch so we can get a good view of New York City burning all around us. Our waitress Anka (who in fact is Danish Royalty) is up there with us, pouring champagne made from polar bear tears squeezed through a Frenchman’s asshole (as if you could.) Then as the clock strikes midnight we get to watch the Star of David light up the heavens with such magnitude it puts a twinkle in my eye that my grandkids giggle at when I’m seventy years old. Then we’re back in the ‘S.S. Bootyprize’ to Bethlehem with some newly-minted gold coins and a stash of China white. (I don’t know what myrrh is but no worries, Mary’s going to dig this!) We should arrive just in time for Bill Gates’ unveiling of Microsoft Jesus.
Seriously, my friends and I started talking about what the hell we’re going to do on New Year’s Eve since Labour Day. Plans were formulated, logistics considered, scenarios developed, and all of them ended up in the crapper because there was an unsaid, mutually-agreed-upon consensus; nothing we could come up with or afford would be good enough to be The New Year of the Millennium.
It wasn’t so much ourselves we were worried about. My friends and me could have fun in the bottom of a Port-O-Let provided we’re smashed and took turns standing where the hole is. What we didn’t want is to be surrounded by people looking around thinking; ‘This is my New Year of the Millennium? I froze my ass off for two hours on Yonge Street waiting for a cab for this? I spent three hundred bucks on normally ten dollar nightclub tickets for this? My girlfriend is pissed at me because the both of us are so fucking stressed trying to put this night together and for what? For this?’
Two words: Bad vibes.
I spent a New Year in Tokyo, drinking champagne in a bar as wide as a bus, filled with American GIs and go-go dancers. I spent New Year in Montréal, a bowel pounding, four-day battery of booze and red meat. I spent a New Year in a puppet shop, an honest-to-god fucking puppet shop with DJs spinning back in the day when everyone thought ‘Rave’ was a new fabric softener.
Brothers and sisters, I have had kick ass New Year’s parties. Believe it.
So against this daunting resume of previous parties and the socially inbred need to dry-hump December 31st until it shoots out unprecedented readings on the Fun-O-Ramic Meter what, ladies and gentlemen, are my friends and I going to do?
Good food and fine drinks, a warm apartment, Sony Playstation with a four-way adapter, and all of us, my friends, together, tucked away from the idiots who don’t know what life is really all about.
I respect the people who are going to end up this year in the same places they end up every week when they want to have a good time. If you’re a regular at a bar, club, or restaurant and that’s your plan, good for you! You may not realize it but you’re making a powerful statement about yourself. You’re saying what you do everyday is good enough for New Year because you live everyday the way you want to.
You suckers who have saved up and planned for New Year’s to be the party of your life have probably just wasted the past eleven months - if not the past several years. I feel sorry for you if you have to look at a calendar to celebrate life to the fullest.
I’ll probably end up partying every New Year’s for the rest of my life and beyond. So this year, for the New Year of the Millennium my friends and I are opting out, choosing not to choose, keeping it quiet and close to home. Hmm… I just realized this is probably what old people do on New Year’s Eve. Damn! And here I was thinking we were going to do it first.