Friday, January 05, 2007

Nothing good happens in Brooklyn after midnight 

The last time I was on the Upper East Side for New Year’s, I passed the final moments of the year overlooking a dimly lit pool with a lawyer in my arms and caviar on ice. That seemed worth a repeat. But as it was the Upper East Side, we arrived early.

Very prescient, that. Medea was a little negligent with the details for the party she wrought. She was after a hot med student from Columbia. Perhaps the only one. It was worth the effort. For her. The rest of us were on our own with an overripe cheese plate.

There was a man with a bouffant at this party. We would not be staying. Once I saw Medea settled in with her med, I asked them if they needed anything to drink. They said no. I made a beeline for the front door. On the way out, I corralled the rest of our party and we hopped in a cab pointed toward Brooklyn. Medea would thank me later.

There was a house party and friends djing at a bar in the borough. We promised no soldier would be left behind. We always promise that.

On the way down, I got word that the house party was being abandoned. We tried rerouting to the Hall and nearly got dropped off by the Watchtower because one of us couldn’t shut up about the window not functioning properly. I won’t say who lacked traveling etiquette, but the homeless man on the median telling us our cab was busted did not improve the driver’s mood. His year was not ending well. Ours might not either.

In fact, we might all be Jehovah’s Witnesses today if Frenchie hadn’t started chatting up the driver. Or showed some leg. Either way, she was in the front seat. She fixed things.

When we were filing inside the bar, I realized I didn’t have any money. I told the lovebirds I needed to go to the ATM. They didn’t believe me, and gave me an escort to make sure I didn’t make a run for it.

Inside was so crowded I forgot it was Brooklyn. A man in a loud shirt inside the door liked my dress and gave me an escort to the bar. But getting a drink proved difficult. It appeared to be close to midnight. With drinks in hand, we made our way through the crowd.

We appeared to be just in time. 8. I spotted the crew holding court on the dance floor. 7. Hugs all around. 6. I was given champagne. 5. Someone grabbed me. 4. Mnn. 3. Frank was playing. 2. Sigh.1. Kisses.

Those lasted for a while. And then there was dancing. The music was so good I forgot my feet hurt. I took a trip through the crowd and wondered why I didn’t come to Brooklyn more often. The Non-Blonde was there, but I almost didn’t recognize her. Reunions were had. There may have been ridiculousness. Brooklyn was great.

The Girls were in rare form. Memories were made. There were shiny hats and broken glasses. Things were stolen. This was New Year’s.

Time passed. Despite their fear of being left behind, it was the lovebirds who had made a quick exit. This was allowed. The Girls were also leaving, but the Former Non-Blonde was sure I should stay. The music was great. Everyone was going back to Manhattan. I’d be fine.

In retrospect, things were not fine. If only friends came with a sticker that displayed their level of drunkenness. In ten more minutes, The Former Non-Blonde would be dropping the speaker on a woman with a very large boyfriend. The woman might survive the impact, but the speaker would not. And no one would be going back to Manhattan.

But there is no such sticker. And Prince was playing. I stayed.

Soon, a small Asian man attached himself to Jodi Foster. The boy I was dancing with started talking. MT began negotiations to fight the boyfriend of said speaker squished girl. The music had stopped. Dignity was lost. Brooklyn was over.

I took a step outside. It was raining. Wasn’t this winter? Were we still in New York? There were crowds of damp people in shiny outfits as far as the eye could see. How did I get here? Where were the cabs?

I took a look at the corners filled with zombies making vain attempts to get yellow cars to whisk them away and began to lose heart.

But just as I was about to lose faith in the New Year, I saw a figure walking toward me. It was the Getaway Kid, come to rescue me in my time of need. He’d been nearby and came to see how things were progressing. He saw the look on my face and knew it was time to go. We sped off into the night, and rang in the New Year on our way back to civilization.

— Miss Anna