I spent New Year’s Eve in Times Square exactly ONCE. There were four of us and it took me all of :15 minutes to get separated from my friends. I was pushed into a coral by the police and stood there by myself and froze my ass off. Nobody would talk to me because I looked like the lone loser who wandered into a party by himself. Midnight struck and while it was a pretty spectacular moment, I can’t say it was worth the hassle. By 12:15 all of Times Square was deserted.
Happy New Year, everyone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hide under my bed from all the amateur drunks.
Incidentally, as a point of clarification, tomorrow is the first day of “twenty-eleven,” not “two thousand eleven.” When it was 1999, we didn’t call it “one thousand, nine hundred and ninety-nine,” did we?
Is it just me? You can tell me. I can take it.