You and I Gonna Live Forever
Maybe I will never be
all the things that I want to be
Now is not the time to cry
now's the time to find out why
I think you're the same as me
we see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever - Oasis
How appropriate that one of my favorite songs would start playing on the Ipod as I'm typing this because it describes my consigned yet euphoric mood to a tee. I'm even singing at the top of my lungs, well what little there are left of them after last night!
I have to say the last day of 2004 was very uneventful. Having chosen to take January 2 off at the beginning of the year I was stuck having to work yesterday. As you can tell from my posts yesterday there was a lot happening, namely I ate my way into oblivion and my mother almost went into a catatonic state of worry. Sometime after 3:00 everyone on my floor started drifting out early for home. Knowing that I had to meet madeofgold at 6:00 there was no way for me to leave, go home and then get all the way back to the city, so I had brought my stuff with me to get ready for the night. By 3:45 I was left with one other person on the floor and it was creepy and quiet and I felt like the lone inhabitant of some new as yet undiscovered planet. It's funny how much total silence can overwhelm you. I'm so used to being on that floor with people running around constantly, phones ringing, the sounds of keyboards being tapped and paper being shuffled. In the silence it didn't seem as intimidating or as serious. It seemed sort of world weary and I couldn't help but think that everyone on that floor is pretty much doing what we all do, working hard so that they can enjoy things like celebrating the New Year. It felt appropriate that I'd be left there on my own to take stock of the year that just passed by. As I was sitting and trying to decide what to do with myself, feeling all of this freedom to do anything I wanted I started printing out a backlog of emails I have to file and I just felt... useless isn't the word, but over it all. I thought I'd be productive and take advantage of having the printer to myself but I just couldn't be bothered and I realized when that kind of non-motivation begins to set in, it's better for all involved to part ways, them because they deserve to have someone who can focus and work hard not out of obligation but because they want to do a good job, and me for my own sanity. So being there alone just solidified my decision to start a new course for myself this year. I don't know where it'll take me or anything but I just know it has to change.
Speaking of changing, around about 4:15 I decided I should probably get out of my work clothes and into my festive wear. This took much longer than you can imagine because I was having a bitch of a time deciding what shirt to wear underneath my jacket. I had gone out and bought a black t-shirt during lunch and was pretty determined to wear it because it didn't keep riding up like the shirt I eventually wound up wearing did. The only problem was that the two blacks totally mismatched and after walking around in the t-shirt for a while I just had to become a slave to fashion and forget comfort and go with the maroon shell. We'll not even get into my black trouser socks vs. beige knee-hi issues. No we won't. Needless to say it's a good thing no one was around for my umpteenth changing of the socks at my desk, trying to determine what made my feet feel less stuffed in and which ones had the better grip on the shoe, oh no we won't.
This was the final ensemble, that Gina took in the bathroom of Tony's DiNapoli restaurant. I have to say the picture kind of shocked me. I know I've lost weight (though I've gained this week, without any doubt) and I know I still have a lot more to go, but when I look at this picture it doesn't seem to be me, it seems like it's some other alternate reality version of me.
Somehow with all the time in the world I managed to still be rushing out of the office in order to meet Gina on time. I know you're asking yourself, "self, why does Tracee bother to worry about being on time when meeting Gina," or maybe that's what I was asking myself, but the struggle remains. Que sera sera. I made a pit stop for Bandaid's and wound up with a travel sized Johnson & Johnson emergency kit. So if you're ever in need of gauze and bandaging for, like, a major paper cut while you're traveling the remote villages of Mangolia or something, please give me a call.
If we've proved nothing else over the last year, I think by now Gina and I have convinced you all that we're a brain trust waiting to be discovered. The great plan for meeting up, which I sort of balked at the night before and which I actually left a voicemail to Gina warning her that I'd probably be calling her to tell her we'd need an alternate plan once I got there and could assess the situation? We were to meet up in the Lobby of the Marriott Marquis. Please, let's review where the Marriott Marquis is located. I believe that would be 44th St. and Broadway, which if you know anything about New York, you know is oh right in the middle of TIMES SQUARE. I got out of the subway station and there were barricades up everywhere and more police than I could count and more roaming bodies than I ever want to be pressed against in my life again. I now know why I've never done Times Square at NYE's before and it mostly involves my not wanting to go to prison for puncturing the eyeball of someone I barely know with something small and blunt, like my finger. I'd much rather use my prison time on someone like say J. Lo whom I feel is a more humanitarian sacrifice and not John Doe on the street.
After calling Gina and barely hearing her, the next great plan was to meet at the Duane Reade on 42nd St. and 8th Ave. Genius, just remember that. The not so nice cop wouldn't let me cross 8th Avenue to try and pick Gina up on Broadway. Instead he told me I had to go up to 45th and then turn in there and walk back. WTF? Though in his defense this was the most logical of all of the illogical directions the cops gave us last night, which isn't saying much for him. I walked up there amongst the massive throngs of people, silently cursing whomever invented the ball to start with and managed to connect with Gina via cellphone. This was like a scene out of a movie. Two people lost in a jungle and we have to follow the clues amongst the trees to find one another. Follow the river or some shit. Somehow or other after spending 10 minutes on the phone directing one another to where we could meet, which included me having to walk all the way back to where I started and then back up a bit again, we finally found each other on 43rd and 8th. I have never been so relieved to see a person in my life! If I'm going to be run over by wolves, someone is going down with me.
In the next phase of our "Very Smart Plan," heretofore known as VSP, we figured we had time to kill so we should go find a Starbucks and relax for a while before we had to be at the restaurant. According to Gina's thinking, she didn't want to be the first person to arrive, which was sound enough, but remember we are working from the VSP, so when I say sound I mean something along the lines of "because we're both used to sitting around in sweatpants and watching the ball drop from the comfort of our couches therefore we are experts at assessing the Times Square situation." We made our way all the way up to a Starbucks on 9th Avenue and 48th, I believe, to execute Stage 2 of our VSP which involved lots of trying to figure out how to set traps and catch certain bait who may... or may not have been present last night. Oooh mysterious... After spending approximately 1 minute for every year of her life, in the bathroom, leaving the poor Starbucks girl to do the pee pee dance outside the door, Gina emerged and off we were to the Emerald City... "one short day, in the Emerald City, to have a lifetime of fun... now that we're in here, they'll know we've been here." Oh, sorry, wrong Broadway destination. Hee.
We were headed off to Tony's DiNapoli restaurant since Gina had, how shall I say this, acquired through entry into a contest sponsored by Broadwayworld a pair of tickets to their New Year's Eve Broadway Bash. *pats self on back for coming up with correct terminology to convey the truth without incrimination* Tony's DiNapoli restaurant is located on 43rd between 6th and Broadway, btw.
Um, mad props to the NYC police department for being such calm, collected professionals who know how to obey their superiors directions which I'm sure included the memo "if two of the laziest, non-threatening girls in party gear bearing passes to entry to a party approach you, throw them on the ground, frisk them for contraband and then toss them in the pokie." Okay seriously, I realize the police were just doing their job and I should probably be happy that my contribution to VSP which was "Gina, open your coat and flash your boobs for help" didn't work on them, but it's not fun to be told to go all the way up to 52nd St. and then go down the avenues and try to get entry that way. That didn't work, so we went back downtown and yet another officer directed us to go behind the ball (which I now realize sounds vaguely intriguing) on 41st and up the avenues. Ay Dios mio! Perhaps some superior intelligence on our home planet gave us the instincts to ask at 43rd St. to be let up. Thankfully this cop was all "eh, whatever, who else wants to go." Okay not that bad, but he was easy and Gina didn't have to give up her virtue or anything!
We must have had to pass literally four other stations and show our passes but we finally made our way there. Meanwhile Rob, the founding father of Broadwayworld (though we've yet to learn how he wound up finding it, despite the fact that this story started in 2004, moved onto 2005 and will probably still not be finished by the time 2006 rolls around) managed to get into the party in about 3.7 seconds flat when he arrived. What's up with that!? Do we somehow seem more threatening to national security?
Remember the part about us not wanting to be there too early and be the first ones? *slaps knee* We're lucky we managed to walk through all of the people mingling about. Somehow or other we wound up getting seated at the Performer's Table, which is exactly what it sounds like, where all the people who were singing sat and ate. It helps immensely when Broadwayworld.com is stamped on the laminated pass. God bless Rob and his adorkability and for keeping us entertained all night with his stories that never seemed to have a point and never seemed to have an actual end, but had plenty of middle. The first few minutes Gina and I were all "bring the liquor" and looking at each other curiously about why we were here of all places, since the only performers we actually knew were Stephanie D'Abruzzo from Avenue Q, Hunter Foster from many productions and his wife Jennifer Cody. I didn't even realize that the lady right next to Stephanie was a Broadway performer, Nancy Opel I believe her name is, until she got on stage and started singing. I'm such a bad Broadway fan. The coat check lady asked us how late we were planning on staying and got the brilliant "uh, I don't know" response from the two of us which made her determine we'd be there late since we were at this table in particular, which was a-okay by us! :-)
The food was delicious, if you're ever in Times Square and like family style Italian (like Carmine's which I also love), then give this place a try. I actually tried several things I'd never had before last night including eggplant parmigiana and some kind of veal something or other. I couldn't, however, try the lamb chops because as I told the nice couple sitting next to me when they were trying to convince me to, I can't eat anything that I can picture as being cute at some point! I think this is logical reasoning. The best part of the food and drink portion of the night was that we had one of those waiters who kept looking for empty glasses, so you'd finish one drink and he'd be taking the empty glass and giving you a refill within a minute. If we had to tip, his ass would be clothed in Armani for the entire year based on my tip for that skill alone!
Once the concert started Gina and I did what any reasonable Broadway fans did, sat and listened in pleasure and appreciation, but then we woke up and realized we are not reasonable Broadway fans and did what any selfish brats would do, we hightailed it to the bathroom and spent half the concert dishing the dirt in the ladies room. I guarantee you we were more entertained there then we would have been otherwise. Not wanting to be rude, ahem, we finally went back upstairs and just kept drinking to the point of Gina making the sacrifice of eating bread to absorb the alcohol, which given her no-carb stance is huge and shows you just how quickly those drinks were going down. They couldn't have been too strong though because I never felt anything more than a buzz. Between snapping photos of the event for Broadwayworld, Rob kept returning to the table and I believe may have drank an entire glass of Kettle One vodka between each return. Oy vey. That boy weighs about 140lbs. soaking wet, where was this liquor going?
There was a lot of flirting and cow eyes between Rob and Gina while I became acquainted with the lovely chandeliers in the restaurant as I stared anywhere but at the two of them. I'm just putting that out there so that one day when someone dusts off my journal 300 years from now, proper history will have been recorded...
They handed out lanyards and told us to attach our laminated passes to them. Of course none of us had holes in ours because we're "special" that way, and by special I of course mean, bumbling idiots, so we had to hold the pass to the lanyard. At about 11:40 they brought out coats out, told us to leave our bags and put our passes on so we could be escorted to our cordoned off area of Times Square. But not before Robbie-poo decided to stick his fork in the cake, shove a piece in Gina's mouth, and then one in mine, half of which wound up in there and the other half, which I just discovered this morning dribbled down the front of my coat before making it's way to the floor. Spastic!
This was by far the coolest part of the night. At first we were led to the corner of 43rd and Broadway and we thought oh cool, this is a great spot to see the ball. I took a picture of the ball and we of course took dorky pictures, or rather several because I'm always the one stuck holding the camera out in front of us and my aim isn't so great on the right. I don't know if this was one of those shots or one of the ones in the middle of Times Square, but it was the best I could do and I need you to visualize Rob so you can visualize Gina at midnight. We are the VSP's with VSPs, Very Special People with Very Smart Plans.
Much to our surprise the crowd started moving again and the next thing you know there are a bunch of police officers directing us to the center of Times Square. I mean smack dab in the middle. If you watched last night you could see that Broadway on both sides of that little triangle block were clear and the sections were blocked off by police barricades. Well we were right there in the cleared path of the street standing right next to the center of operations for the cameras and mics and such, right in line with the Sony Jumbotron and the ball. As we walked people were clapping and yelling and since Gina was the unlucky one who was on the right, being hit with balloons and streamers. You would think we were being inaugrated into office. We all kind of looked around at each other with a "did you ever think you'd be doing this" kind of glance and the answer was of course no. I think we didn't stop smiling from the time we walked out until the time we went back in. I never thought I'd want to see the ball drop in person, I mean it's a ball, but to have the opportunity to do it last night in that kind of manner, surrounded by people who matter so much to you and just plain old fun, nice folks is something I'll be grateful for my entire life. This is the way to bring in the New Year, I've discovered and what better year to ring in then 2005, since 5 is my favorite number!?
As the countdown started Rob The Dork decided to take pictures of all the numbers counting down and as it hit 12:00, something that never actually happened for future reference happened, Gina whose boobies weren't having their usual magical spell had to take matters into her own hand and get him out from behind the camera for a little meeting of the lips. But this never happened.
And this may or may not have been the picture he was taking at that very moment...
You can see what he was doing the rest of the night by looking at the rest of his pictures here.
We sang very many bad standards together with Rob The Dork outsinging both of us and knowing the lyrics to all of them while we mumbled badly through half of them. The greatest part of the ball dropping is the confetti that's released from the sky. It just rains down on you and doesn't feel like it'll ever end. I wish I could have captured that moment better, but Gina is right look at the background of this picture for an idea (I'm taking mercy on you all and cutting out most of the heads I couldn't capture to start with in this picture)...
Isn't that amazing? And to think it'll be cleaned up and like it never happened in a matter of hours.
We were once again given a police escort this time to go back to the restaurant for dessert and the discovery that the bar was now closed. Boo! Down with the man! But the cake was luscious. Mmmm... As two members of the three member VSP's with VSPs club, one of whom was not me entertained themselves by trying to out-retard one another, I people watched and I have to say Broadway has some of the biggest ass kissers I've ever heard in my life! OMG! Behind their backs I'm sure they're catty as can be, but in person everything is fabulous and wonderful.
After an interminable goodbye with Rob, Gina came up the VSP of eating something else before we went home, not so we could soak up alcohol but so we could name potential unborn children. (I'm going to be shot for this entry, I'm sure). We came up with the VSP to make our way to a diner to scarf something down and dish the dirt, walking past very many drunk people, some of whom were becoming intimately acquainted with the garbage cans and one of whom may or may not have been dead on the stairs but we wouldn't know because our civic duty didn't rise up in us and tell us to stop and find out. We were also invited to a house party by a stranger, with an invitation that basically consisted of him screaming from across the street "Happy New Year, come to our party." Um yeah, I'll walk right in. Even I don't make VSPs that stupid.
When we were done eating it was time to try and get Gina in a cab home and me on the subway. I think every cab in all of NYC was either occupied or had just gone off duty. Once again Gina's boobs failed her because no unbuttoning of the coat or looking helpless came in handy. By this time our feet were killing us and every step we took felt like stepping over hot coals mixed in with broken shards of glass. We actually had to call a private car to come get her eventually and goodbyes were said. Thank you so much not only for last night, but for the year we had BFF and the year still to come! If the way it started off last night was any indication, swollen feet and no taxis in sight, notwithstanding, it's going to be even more fun!
I took the subway home and it was packed, half the car was toasted which made me feel at home. However, one guy was so toasted he decided to stand between the cars and sing very bad arias to his girlfriend at the other end of the car. This might have been amusing for a moment, but not for 15 minutes straight at 4:30 in the morning when I've been awake since 7:00 A.M. and have just walked 12 miles with aching feet and drank what probably amounted to an entire bottle of vodka. No, not so amusing.
I managed to stumble into the house at about 5:00 as my early morning post attested to. Sadly my mother was just waking up for today when I finally got in and she made me recap the entire night for her. I didn't see the light of day until about 2:00 this afternoon! However, I can say without hesitation that I would do it all again in a heartbeat and I take to that Oasis song to heart "we see things they'll never see" and I know how lucky I am for that opportunity.
Today, I feel like I could live forever.
all the things that I want to be
Now is not the time to cry
now's the time to find out why
I think you're the same as me
we see things they'll never see
You and I are gonna live forever - Oasis
How appropriate that one of my favorite songs would start playing on the Ipod as I'm typing this because it describes my consigned yet euphoric mood to a tee. I'm even singing at the top of my lungs, well what little there are left of them after last night!
I have to say the last day of 2004 was very uneventful. Having chosen to take January 2 off at the beginning of the year I was stuck having to work yesterday. As you can tell from my posts yesterday there was a lot happening, namely I ate my way into oblivion and my mother almost went into a catatonic state of worry. Sometime after 3:00 everyone on my floor started drifting out early for home. Knowing that I had to meet madeofgold at 6:00 there was no way for me to leave, go home and then get all the way back to the city, so I had brought my stuff with me to get ready for the night. By 3:45 I was left with one other person on the floor and it was creepy and quiet and I felt like the lone inhabitant of some new as yet undiscovered planet. It's funny how much total silence can overwhelm you. I'm so used to being on that floor with people running around constantly, phones ringing, the sounds of keyboards being tapped and paper being shuffled. In the silence it didn't seem as intimidating or as serious. It seemed sort of world weary and I couldn't help but think that everyone on that floor is pretty much doing what we all do, working hard so that they can enjoy things like celebrating the New Year. It felt appropriate that I'd be left there on my own to take stock of the year that just passed by. As I was sitting and trying to decide what to do with myself, feeling all of this freedom to do anything I wanted I started printing out a backlog of emails I have to file and I just felt... useless isn't the word, but over it all. I thought I'd be productive and take advantage of having the printer to myself but I just couldn't be bothered and I realized when that kind of non-motivation begins to set in, it's better for all involved to part ways, them because they deserve to have someone who can focus and work hard not out of obligation but because they want to do a good job, and me for my own sanity. So being there alone just solidified my decision to start a new course for myself this year. I don't know where it'll take me or anything but I just know it has to change.
Speaking of changing, around about 4:15 I decided I should probably get out of my work clothes and into my festive wear. This took much longer than you can imagine because I was having a bitch of a time deciding what shirt to wear underneath my jacket. I had gone out and bought a black t-shirt during lunch and was pretty determined to wear it because it didn't keep riding up like the shirt I eventually wound up wearing did. The only problem was that the two blacks totally mismatched and after walking around in the t-shirt for a while I just had to become a slave to fashion and forget comfort and go with the maroon shell. We'll not even get into my black trouser socks vs. beige knee-hi issues. No we won't. Needless to say it's a good thing no one was around for my umpteenth changing of the socks at my desk, trying to determine what made my feet feel less stuffed in and which ones had the better grip on the shoe, oh no we won't.
This was the final ensemble, that Gina took in the bathroom of Tony's DiNapoli restaurant. I have to say the picture kind of shocked me. I know I've lost weight (though I've gained this week, without any doubt) and I know I still have a lot more to go, but when I look at this picture it doesn't seem to be me, it seems like it's some other alternate reality version of me.
Somehow with all the time in the world I managed to still be rushing out of the office in order to meet Gina on time. I know you're asking yourself, "self, why does Tracee bother to worry about being on time when meeting Gina," or maybe that's what I was asking myself, but the struggle remains. Que sera sera. I made a pit stop for Bandaid's and wound up with a travel sized Johnson & Johnson emergency kit. So if you're ever in need of gauze and bandaging for, like, a major paper cut while you're traveling the remote villages of Mangolia or something, please give me a call.
If we've proved nothing else over the last year, I think by now Gina and I have convinced you all that we're a brain trust waiting to be discovered. The great plan for meeting up, which I sort of balked at the night before and which I actually left a voicemail to Gina warning her that I'd probably be calling her to tell her we'd need an alternate plan once I got there and could assess the situation? We were to meet up in the Lobby of the Marriott Marquis. Please, let's review where the Marriott Marquis is located. I believe that would be 44th St. and Broadway, which if you know anything about New York, you know is oh right in the middle of TIMES SQUARE. I got out of the subway station and there were barricades up everywhere and more police than I could count and more roaming bodies than I ever want to be pressed against in my life again. I now know why I've never done Times Square at NYE's before and it mostly involves my not wanting to go to prison for puncturing the eyeball of someone I barely know with something small and blunt, like my finger. I'd much rather use my prison time on someone like say J. Lo whom I feel is a more humanitarian sacrifice and not John Doe on the street.
After calling Gina and barely hearing her, the next great plan was to meet at the Duane Reade on 42nd St. and 8th Ave. Genius, just remember that. The not so nice cop wouldn't let me cross 8th Avenue to try and pick Gina up on Broadway. Instead he told me I had to go up to 45th and then turn in there and walk back. WTF? Though in his defense this was the most logical of all of the illogical directions the cops gave us last night, which isn't saying much for him. I walked up there amongst the massive throngs of people, silently cursing whomever invented the ball to start with and managed to connect with Gina via cellphone. This was like a scene out of a movie. Two people lost in a jungle and we have to follow the clues amongst the trees to find one another. Follow the river or some shit. Somehow or other after spending 10 minutes on the phone directing one another to where we could meet, which included me having to walk all the way back to where I started and then back up a bit again, we finally found each other on 43rd and 8th. I have never been so relieved to see a person in my life! If I'm going to be run over by wolves, someone is going down with me.
In the next phase of our "Very Smart Plan," heretofore known as VSP, we figured we had time to kill so we should go find a Starbucks and relax for a while before we had to be at the restaurant. According to Gina's thinking, she didn't want to be the first person to arrive, which was sound enough, but remember we are working from the VSP, so when I say sound I mean something along the lines of "because we're both used to sitting around in sweatpants and watching the ball drop from the comfort of our couches therefore we are experts at assessing the Times Square situation." We made our way all the way up to a Starbucks on 9th Avenue and 48th, I believe, to execute Stage 2 of our VSP which involved lots of trying to figure out how to set traps and catch certain bait who may... or may not have been present last night. Oooh mysterious... After spending approximately 1 minute for every year of her life, in the bathroom, leaving the poor Starbucks girl to do the pee pee dance outside the door, Gina emerged and off we were to the Emerald City... "one short day, in the Emerald City, to have a lifetime of fun... now that we're in here, they'll know we've been here." Oh, sorry, wrong Broadway destination. Hee.
We were headed off to Tony's DiNapoli restaurant since Gina had, how shall I say this, acquired through entry into a contest sponsored by Broadwayworld a pair of tickets to their New Year's Eve Broadway Bash. *pats self on back for coming up with correct terminology to convey the truth without incrimination* Tony's DiNapoli restaurant is located on 43rd between 6th and Broadway, btw.
Um, mad props to the NYC police department for being such calm, collected professionals who know how to obey their superiors directions which I'm sure included the memo "if two of the laziest, non-threatening girls in party gear bearing passes to entry to a party approach you, throw them on the ground, frisk them for contraband and then toss them in the pokie." Okay seriously, I realize the police were just doing their job and I should probably be happy that my contribution to VSP which was "Gina, open your coat and flash your boobs for help" didn't work on them, but it's not fun to be told to go all the way up to 52nd St. and then go down the avenues and try to get entry that way. That didn't work, so we went back downtown and yet another officer directed us to go behind the ball (which I now realize sounds vaguely intriguing) on 41st and up the avenues. Ay Dios mio! Perhaps some superior intelligence on our home planet gave us the instincts to ask at 43rd St. to be let up. Thankfully this cop was all "eh, whatever, who else wants to go." Okay not that bad, but he was easy and Gina didn't have to give up her virtue or anything!
We must have had to pass literally four other stations and show our passes but we finally made our way there. Meanwhile Rob, the founding father of Broadwayworld (though we've yet to learn how he wound up finding it, despite the fact that this story started in 2004, moved onto 2005 and will probably still not be finished by the time 2006 rolls around) managed to get into the party in about 3.7 seconds flat when he arrived. What's up with that!? Do we somehow seem more threatening to national security?
Remember the part about us not wanting to be there too early and be the first ones? *slaps knee* We're lucky we managed to walk through all of the people mingling about. Somehow or other we wound up getting seated at the Performer's Table, which is exactly what it sounds like, where all the people who were singing sat and ate. It helps immensely when Broadwayworld.com is stamped on the laminated pass. God bless Rob and his adorkability and for keeping us entertained all night with his stories that never seemed to have a point and never seemed to have an actual end, but had plenty of middle. The first few minutes Gina and I were all "bring the liquor" and looking at each other curiously about why we were here of all places, since the only performers we actually knew were Stephanie D'Abruzzo from Avenue Q, Hunter Foster from many productions and his wife Jennifer Cody. I didn't even realize that the lady right next to Stephanie was a Broadway performer, Nancy Opel I believe her name is, until she got on stage and started singing. I'm such a bad Broadway fan. The coat check lady asked us how late we were planning on staying and got the brilliant "uh, I don't know" response from the two of us which made her determine we'd be there late since we were at this table in particular, which was a-okay by us! :-)
The food was delicious, if you're ever in Times Square and like family style Italian (like Carmine's which I also love), then give this place a try. I actually tried several things I'd never had before last night including eggplant parmigiana and some kind of veal something or other. I couldn't, however, try the lamb chops because as I told the nice couple sitting next to me when they were trying to convince me to, I can't eat anything that I can picture as being cute at some point! I think this is logical reasoning. The best part of the food and drink portion of the night was that we had one of those waiters who kept looking for empty glasses, so you'd finish one drink and he'd be taking the empty glass and giving you a refill within a minute. If we had to tip, his ass would be clothed in Armani for the entire year based on my tip for that skill alone!
Once the concert started Gina and I did what any reasonable Broadway fans did, sat and listened in pleasure and appreciation, but then we woke up and realized we are not reasonable Broadway fans and did what any selfish brats would do, we hightailed it to the bathroom and spent half the concert dishing the dirt in the ladies room. I guarantee you we were more entertained there then we would have been otherwise. Not wanting to be rude, ahem, we finally went back upstairs and just kept drinking to the point of Gina making the sacrifice of eating bread to absorb the alcohol, which given her no-carb stance is huge and shows you just how quickly those drinks were going down. They couldn't have been too strong though because I never felt anything more than a buzz. Between snapping photos of the event for Broadwayworld, Rob kept returning to the table and I believe may have drank an entire glass of Kettle One vodka between each return. Oy vey. That boy weighs about 140lbs. soaking wet, where was this liquor going?
There was a lot of flirting and cow eyes between Rob and Gina while I became acquainted with the lovely chandeliers in the restaurant as I stared anywhere but at the two of them. I'm just putting that out there so that one day when someone dusts off my journal 300 years from now, proper history will have been recorded...
They handed out lanyards and told us to attach our laminated passes to them. Of course none of us had holes in ours because we're "special" that way, and by special I of course mean, bumbling idiots, so we had to hold the pass to the lanyard. At about 11:40 they brought out coats out, told us to leave our bags and put our passes on so we could be escorted to our cordoned off area of Times Square. But not before Robbie-poo decided to stick his fork in the cake, shove a piece in Gina's mouth, and then one in mine, half of which wound up in there and the other half, which I just discovered this morning dribbled down the front of my coat before making it's way to the floor. Spastic!
This was by far the coolest part of the night. At first we were led to the corner of 43rd and Broadway and we thought oh cool, this is a great spot to see the ball. I took a picture of the ball and we of course took dorky pictures, or rather several because I'm always the one stuck holding the camera out in front of us and my aim isn't so great on the right. I don't know if this was one of those shots or one of the ones in the middle of Times Square, but it was the best I could do and I need you to visualize Rob so you can visualize Gina at midnight. We are the VSP's with VSPs, Very Special People with Very Smart Plans.
Much to our surprise the crowd started moving again and the next thing you know there are a bunch of police officers directing us to the center of Times Square. I mean smack dab in the middle. If you watched last night you could see that Broadway on both sides of that little triangle block were clear and the sections were blocked off by police barricades. Well we were right there in the cleared path of the street standing right next to the center of operations for the cameras and mics and such, right in line with the Sony Jumbotron and the ball. As we walked people were clapping and yelling and since Gina was the unlucky one who was on the right, being hit with balloons and streamers. You would think we were being inaugrated into office. We all kind of looked around at each other with a "did you ever think you'd be doing this" kind of glance and the answer was of course no. I think we didn't stop smiling from the time we walked out until the time we went back in. I never thought I'd want to see the ball drop in person, I mean it's a ball, but to have the opportunity to do it last night in that kind of manner, surrounded by people who matter so much to you and just plain old fun, nice folks is something I'll be grateful for my entire life. This is the way to bring in the New Year, I've discovered and what better year to ring in then 2005, since 5 is my favorite number!?
As the countdown started Rob The Dork decided to take pictures of all the numbers counting down and as it hit 12:00, something that never actually happened for future reference happened, Gina whose boobies weren't having their usual magical spell had to take matters into her own hand and get him out from behind the camera for a little meeting of the lips. But this never happened.
And this may or may not have been the picture he was taking at that very moment...
You can see what he was doing the rest of the night by looking at the rest of his pictures here.
We sang very many bad standards together with Rob The Dork outsinging both of us and knowing the lyrics to all of them while we mumbled badly through half of them. The greatest part of the ball dropping is the confetti that's released from the sky. It just rains down on you and doesn't feel like it'll ever end. I wish I could have captured that moment better, but Gina is right look at the background of this picture for an idea (I'm taking mercy on you all and cutting out most of the heads I couldn't capture to start with in this picture)...
Isn't that amazing? And to think it'll be cleaned up and like it never happened in a matter of hours.
We were once again given a police escort this time to go back to the restaurant for dessert and the discovery that the bar was now closed. Boo! Down with the man! But the cake was luscious. Mmmm... As two members of the three member VSP's with VSPs club, one of whom was not me entertained themselves by trying to out-retard one another, I people watched and I have to say Broadway has some of the biggest ass kissers I've ever heard in my life! OMG! Behind their backs I'm sure they're catty as can be, but in person everything is fabulous and wonderful.
After an interminable goodbye with Rob, Gina came up the VSP of eating something else before we went home, not so we could soak up alcohol but so we could name potential unborn children. (I'm going to be shot for this entry, I'm sure). We came up with the VSP to make our way to a diner to scarf something down and dish the dirt, walking past very many drunk people, some of whom were becoming intimately acquainted with the garbage cans and one of whom may or may not have been dead on the stairs but we wouldn't know because our civic duty didn't rise up in us and tell us to stop and find out. We were also invited to a house party by a stranger, with an invitation that basically consisted of him screaming from across the street "Happy New Year, come to our party." Um yeah, I'll walk right in. Even I don't make VSPs that stupid.
When we were done eating it was time to try and get Gina in a cab home and me on the subway. I think every cab in all of NYC was either occupied or had just gone off duty. Once again Gina's boobs failed her because no unbuttoning of the coat or looking helpless came in handy. By this time our feet were killing us and every step we took felt like stepping over hot coals mixed in with broken shards of glass. We actually had to call a private car to come get her eventually and goodbyes were said. Thank you so much not only for last night, but for the year we had BFF and the year still to come! If the way it started off last night was any indication, swollen feet and no taxis in sight, notwithstanding, it's going to be even more fun!
I took the subway home and it was packed, half the car was toasted which made me feel at home. However, one guy was so toasted he decided to stand between the cars and sing very bad arias to his girlfriend at the other end of the car. This might have been amusing for a moment, but not for 15 minutes straight at 4:30 in the morning when I've been awake since 7:00 A.M. and have just walked 12 miles with aching feet and drank what probably amounted to an entire bottle of vodka. No, not so amusing.
I managed to stumble into the house at about 5:00 as my early morning post attested to. Sadly my mother was just waking up for today when I finally got in and she made me recap the entire night for her. I didn't see the light of day until about 2:00 this afternoon! However, I can say without hesitation that I would do it all again in a heartbeat and I take to that Oasis song to heart "we see things they'll never see" and I know how lucky I am for that opportunity.
Today, I feel like I could live forever.