The Divine New Year's Eve Comedy

And so it has come and gone. The last day of the past year, and the first of the present.

As I begin to embark on yet another year of new t-shirts, and other banalities, I find it intriguing to look upon the past year, and see certain areas of growth, change, enlightenment, and all other kinds of humanist bullshit. But that's for the next post. I so rarely produce journal-type posts, but I feel that for certain occasions, like New Year's Eve, it warrants a small amount of reminiscence, if not for my own remembrance later down the road. Therefore, since no-one has asked for it, here's my homework writing assignment: What I Did For New Year's Eve. Spine tingling!

Since my inception into the legal drinking club, I've spent five New Year's Eve's out of eight at a house party. In fact, the last five years in a row were at those house parties (for the actual New Year's Eve - any "New Year's Eve After New Year's Eve party that I created for the U of A doesn't count). For this year, the ninth, I was happily given the task of finding some activity that exceeded beyond the comforts and boredom of mine or a friend's abode. My dear friend Morghan, who had endowed me with the search of a great party, trusted me so much that she would veto each suggestion I came up with. That's trust. Eventually, it was decided that since some members of the female gender would be wearing heels, the party at Dante's Bistro would serve well. Also, it had a "Casino Royale" theme, and James Bond is fucking cool. Dinner would have to be had elsewhere, as Dante's had dinner tickets for only the cost of a kidney. No dice. Dinner, I suggested should be close, and should fit the theme of the evening. The answer was almost instant to me, i.e., a couple days before New Year's. Julio's Barrio. So simple. So delicious. A evening was born.

Now I'll have to stop here and give absolute credit and respect to Morghan for getting the tickets to Dante's, and doing a gargantuan amount of the leg work, and to Mary B for the dinner reso's. That being said, I do have to give credit where credit's due, so I give myself thanks for the ideas, as it wasn't easy to find an itinerary that everyone could get excited over. Backslaps and high praise for everyone!

Since the party was Bond-themed, I took it upon myself to obtain a tuxedo, which I haven't worn in it's traditional look since...1987. My Aunt Sandra's wedding. I was a page, or something. I looked awesome then, and I looked damn awesome two days ago. Look at that picture to the left. Spellbindingly awesome. And thanks to Daniel Craig and his incomparable performance, I can finally be the blond Bond I've always wanted. There's just something about putting on the penguin suit that makes you feel almost invincible. The constant checking in the mirror, the incessant pulling and straightening of various suit pieces, it all comes together into one amazing package. Granted, it has to be tailored, and certain pieces have to be used, and some need to be omitted. Take the suspenders, for example. I've never worn suspenders, mostly because my pants have never needed that "extra help" to stay up. The ten minutes it took me to put them on was frustrating enough, but when you don't wear suspenders, they cause you to imagine things. Like your pants are too short. Imagining something like that does not help someone so paranoid as myself.

After a couple drinks at our fellow partier Angelina's house, we traveled west to Julio's, where six of us initiated the 7pm reservation with style: Jugs of sangria. Oh, and jugs of margaritas. And lots of edible edibles. Now, I don't begin to believe that I'm the bastion of good manners and such, but I guess Angelina does. A mere 2.5 seconds after arriving at our table, our waiter is subjected to "HOW OLD ARE YOU?!" from Angelina. Taken aback, but not missing a beat, he replies, "not old enough to serve you", which I thought was either the product of a quick wit, or a conditioned response to a oft-repeated question. Really though, the dude looked like he was 14. He also looked like me when I was 14. Oh, and his name was Tyler. Just fucking priceless. Since he was a Tyler, I will give him the benefit of a clever wit. It's a namesake standard. We continue to eat, save for me. I ordered a dish, but didn't really eat it. Waiter Tyler declared last call for food, and pressured me into it. Well played, sir. This happened at 8pm, which also happened to be the last call for alcohol, since Julio's closed at 9pm. Our merry band of six decide that the other three of our group will come soon, so we decide to order 4 more pitchers divided equally into sangria and margaritas, bringing the total order by us to 8. In the end, my utmost reverence and respect to the Original Six for demolishing 90% of those pitchers. Well done, everyone!

"Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate" ("Abandon all hope, ye who enter here")
- Possible sign outside Dante's Bistro.

Alright, so Dante's probably isn't Hell. It's just that the evening ended so disgustingly, that one might wonder. Starting off, though, things were excellent. The bar was decorated wonderfully, the Sky Bar was exceptionally cool, and I recommend anyone to head up there if open, whenever they find themselves in the area. My thanks and a big high-five to my great buddy Dean (aka Poppa McGursky) for being my Virgil of the main bar. Thanks brother.

Let me run down some of the highlights:

- Upon seeing many people in suits, or just shirts and ties, and one fucking stupid looking asshole dressed as Austin Powers, I thought that I had the edge in a tux. The only other dudes dressed in tuxes were old guys, and I thought that during the contest for "Best Bond Look-a-like", I would be a contender. I never saw a sniff of the contest, thus cementing my belief that only douchebags win contests at bars. Except for Morghan winning Oiler tickets last year. That was awesome.

- The main bar was spinning regular top-40 tunes, but the restaurant next door had a live reggae band, and they were neat...for the one song I heard of them. Then some DJ played older tunes (for the older people mainly organized there), including a nine-song Beach Boys remix. The highlight was the conga line that Olivia started. That was hella fun, and we showed those oldies how to really have a good time. Take that, old people.

- Midnight and subsequent embraces. I'm running a nice streak, with each year having it's own special meaning and backstory.

- You can always sense when a fight is coming. The air seems to crackle with some intensity, the mood among the patrons tenses a little, and then it happens. It always starts with two idiots, with one intelligent person trying to stop it. I watched this time as two morons started jawing, then with the help of another, the moment passed. Then, like a massive meatball-asshole-douchebag avalanche, the fight gains momentum and hits an enormous level. My friends and I are getting our coats, when all hell breaks loose. The Seventh Circle of hell, Outer Ring, more exact. Swarms of security guards, who previously looked like anyone else (good move Dante's) rush to the area where my friends and I were loitering not three minutes earlier. Then we see the glasses being thrown. I saw some chairs take flight. The fighting mass grows to what I can see as about 10-15 people, with some 10 more around the edges. It's a disgusting sight, and quite frankly, frightening as well. We gather our jackets quickly, and decide to exit out a rear entrance. Despite one female servers plea that we go out the front, she lets us through when we point out that the front entrance is a "little busy right now". We are fortunate to have a sober driver with us (thanks Nicole!), so six of us pack into a small car, and flee the scene. The bar has become a cop convention by this point, with cruisers numbering in the 6-7 range. This is our travel through Purgatory.

Finally, Paradiso. Some of us are dropped off at Angelina's (those who didn't go home sick), and we regale with tales of the evening past. Dante's may never seem my shadow again, but I'll admit that it did provide me with one of the most interesing NYE's in a long time.

So until next year, when another night will move the sun in heav'n and all the stars.