No Longer Fooled by the Anti-Climax of the Year
December 29th, 2009
I dislike crowded bars and clubs at the best of times; where the music is loud and you may as well be out on your own anyway due to the time spent queuing for a drink. It can be near impossible to hold a conversation over the noise level of those I don’t know, and don’t bother expecting to get seated. There will be assholes around somewhere, and will likely during the course of the evening/night get in my space. The drinks are overpriced and watered down and don’t expect the music to be less than whatever shit just came off the conveyor belt of the established societal norms.
So why would I want to do this on a night where I’ll be charged double to triple the usual cover charge just to get into the place, and then have to endure far greater numbers of people I don’t know to spend my evening with, bringing with it a greater ratio of cunts simply because the striking of 12 indicates the beginning of a new year.
Occasionally I enjoy going to clubs, getting drunk listening to music that shouldn’t be played so loud, if ever, – don’t we all. Though those urges are becoming less frequent, with my perfect night actually being spent in rather than out, or at least in a decent pub with no dance floor, a table and in the company of friends – a difficult thing to find in Belfast.
As for the obsession with going out on the last day of the year, I just don’t get it. It’ll be an anti-climax anyway, and similar to those who clap when a plane lands, I don’t like doing strange things with people I don’t know, like counting from 10 to 1 for the big hand to reach 12 on the clock.
From I was a child I think I expected something to happen. I believe it was the eve of the new millennium where I was so upset at having done nothing extraordinary as I stayed in with my parents that I was led to questioning the whole thing with them before going to bed. The anti-climax that it was really got to me. In the years that have past I’ve gotten sick of it.
On New Year’s Eve we’re expected to drink more than at any other time of the year, and spend more money. Then we forget the taxis charge double to get home. This year I refuse to go anywhere that is not the house of my own friends, relax with a glass of wine and the usual televised material (Jools Holland, Graham Norton, BBC Live coverage) to get us excited about a new day, and know that I won’t be faced with anyone who is likely to be a dick while I try to enjoy myself.
