New. Year’s. Eve. Three words that can strike fear into the hearts of even the strongest men and baddest bitches. I’ve had a few traumatic December 31 experiences, but I’ve also had some great ones and I have a feeling this year might be the best yet (more on that at the bottom…).
But first, let’s talk about why New Year’s Eve can be THE WORST EVER.
1. The pre-promotion BS. In the words of my friend Mike, “Every shitty party advertising for weeks/months that they’re not the same as the other shitty party.” Newsflash: If you’re pushing that angle, you are in fact just as shitty (or shittier) than every other shitty party. And the worst of all: Radio ads for the “GROWN AND SEXIEST NEW YEAR’S EXTRAVAGANZA SOIREE OF ALL TIME.” My ears are bleeding, thanks.
2. Longest lines ever. Why is the line to get in, the line to the bathroom, and the line to get a drink longer than the line at the Apple store on iPhone release day and line for the next Twilight movie COMBINED? Bring snacks.
3. Amateur bartenders. You wait 37293492874 hours in that God-awful line and when you finally get to the front, the bartender with a chin strap and shiny tux vest (sans jacket) uses a jigger (ARE YOU SERIOUS BRO) to make you the weakest vodka soda of all time sans garnish or straw. You’re better off sticking a flask in your Spanx.
4. Amateur partiers. Suburban people who rarely party are coming into the city to blow it out and THAT. IS. TERRIFYING. Some of them haven’t raged in public for the last five years and they hired a babysitter for the occasion (WATCH OUT WORLD). Then there are the 21-year-olds. Put this mix of folks in one room with an open bar and you’re getting tripped, tackled, spilled, and spit on (ie. close-talking wasted girl in the bathroom). By midnight, you would rather be home in sweats watching a Real Housewives of New Jersey marathon.
5. Transportation situation. One year (pre-Uber days), I called for a cab to take us to the party and they said it would take one to two hours. What? Is that even legal? As for Uber, get ready for a $2,800 ride to get to your apartment 4 miles down the road. Also, someone puked in the car earlier. #Blessed.
6. Security on a power trip. The party organizers had to scoop the bottom of the bouncer barrel to provide enough security for the 29347293749287439874 people, and now these guys are acting like they’re protecting the Playboy Mansion from a band of escaped convicts. “Really? I can’t walk through this one specific doorway to get to the bar? Do you have a reason for that unnecessary power trip besides your daddy issues/growing up in the trailer park? It’s not that serious, bro.”
7. Terrible crowd. Who are these people? Did they bus them in from a Walmart training convention and give them a bunch of cheap glittery hats/sunglasses, noisemakers, and Adderall? You’re lucky if you make it out alive.
8. Cheesy venue. If you wanted to go to tacky wedding in a hotel ballroom, you would have
crashed gone to a tacky wedding in a hotel ballroom. You can almost hear the YMCA playing…
Which brings me to…
9. Shitty entertainment. If it’s not a tone-deaf cover band led by a Scott Stapp lookalike, it’s a DJ yelling his own name at the top of his lungs over every halfway decent song. Playing Pandora over the speakers would have been better.
10. Skank overload. Why did all these girls raid the Kardashian Kollection at Sears and/or rent too-small Herve Leger bandage dresses from Rent the Runway, pair them with sparkly Steve Madden platforms, layer on 18 gallons of makeups, tease their hair so they can barely fit under the doorframe, and down 2 bottles of white zin each before showing up to the party so they’re slurring/close-talking like Tara Reid on a Vegas bender? You’re over the age of 24. Do better.
11. Guys in khakis. Really, dude? It’s New Year’s Eve and you pulled out the pleated Dockers instead of springing for some black slacks? Or if it’s a casual party, you can forego the dress pants for nice dark jeans (NOT WRANGLERS), but whatever you do, just don’t look like you’re going to your fraternity induction ceremony for the love of God.
12. THE NIGHTMARE MIDNIGHT KISS. The anticipation of the entire night and there’s an 87% chance it’s going to be awful, awkward, or at the very best, anticlimactic for a multitude of reasons:
-No one to kiss. Literally no one. Everyone is kissing around you. Like, you pull out your phone and text as the clocks strikes midnight to avoid the depression of being alone.
-The sneak attack by that creepy guy/gal who’s been lurking all night. Your reflexes have been slowed by the 239847298347 vodka drinks and you get tricked into a sloppy makeout. Best case scenario: They don’t have any mouth STDs.
-You end making out with your girlfriend because you’re wasted and no one else is around, then wondering if you’re a lesbian. What?
-You actually brought a date but can’t even find them midnight. ARE YOU SERIOUS.
Because all of these things make me crazy, I’m going to Guestlist Atlanta’s WITNESS NYE, where the bartenders are experienced (and hopefully heavy-handed), the crowd is legit/beautiful/fun, the girls have class (for the most part), and the guys are straight from the pages of GQ (no pleated khakis allowed). Oh, and T-Pain is performing because that’s normal (fingers crossed for the Tupac hologram as well), and I heard some rumors about a dance crew situation. Better dust off my Beyonce routine. The Guestlist guys always do every party in the most ultimate, unique, amazing way and I have a feeling this doozy could be their best yet. (If you want to join us, here’s a special link for tix.)
As for the midnight kiss, that’s on me.
Cheers to the New Year!