WE left for NEW YEARS EVE WEEKEND on the morning of New Years Eve, and after a few foulups in the Dunkin Donuts parking lot and with the tire air pressure gauge, we were happily on our way. Thanks to one of GAMER's co-workers, we discovered a new super-secret back way through Maryland that is a million times better than any ride up 95, no matter the time of day and will from now on be used for any travel north of Baltimore. A traffic-free and stress-free 4 hours later, we were pulling up to our hotel.
WE were at the Holiday Inn Downtown, which according to the site was in SoHo. Both were slight exaggerations, as it was on the corner of Lexington and Canal, in the dead center of Chinatown. WE rested up and watched TV for a bit, cracked open a delightfully sugary bottle of White Zinfandel, and GAMER and I laughed at those commercials from our childhoods that they are still playing on New York channels. MICKEY, the champ that he is, went out and picked up hot dogs for us, and returned with one more than we asked for due to a language snafu at the stand. "One plain, one with ketchup, one with kraut, and that'll be everything" resulted in one plain, one with ketchup, one with kraut, and one with everything. I had never been bold enough to eat a dog with everything before, and I have to confess, I'll be doing it again.
A stroll around the neighborhood and a $15 watch later, it was time for us to get ready for the evening. We had initially planned to go to our friend's uncle's loft in SoHo, where every few years the uncle goes out of town for NYE and allows our friend to throw a party in his cavernous loft that he's had rent-controlled since like 1972. This year, the uncle's decided to sell the loft and the party got cancelled. Why anyone would sell that place is beyond me, but I guess a cool mil in the hand is worth $600 a month.
Our friend, DR. COCK, saved the day when he let us know about some bar that was doing an all-you-can-drink for $100 thing and he got us tickets for it. WE all met up at his place for a cocktail party and a putting tournament before going to the bar. I found out that this wasn't just some bar, but a private party that the financial planning place COCK's girlfriend, MEL works for was throwing; invite only, with dj's and sponsored by Red Bull. My fears of an overcrowded eurotrash meat market dump were assuaged.