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Editor's Column: The worst holiday of the year
The transition from the years best holiday to the years worst is swift. We spend Christmas with our families eating food and swapping presents, then one week later were supposed to get drunk and kiss strangers on New Years Eve.
Its the most over-hyped and under-participated-in holiday of the entire year. Young people tend to fall for the hoopla and anticipate going out on New Years Eve to have a good time. But after several years of utter boredom followed by a few seconds of terror and then hangovers, most wise up and spend New Years Eve at home with the spouse and dog. Even professional drinkers shun the evening because they dont like being around so many silly amateurs trying desperately to have a good time.
I vaguely remember past celebrations that involved gaudy party hats and tassled tooters which everyone is equipped with as the stroke of midnight approaches. When the clock strikes 12, youre supposed to toot, throw confetti into the air, and kiss someone nearby while the crowd sings Auld Lang Syne, the lyrics of which were unknown until Google came along. Now we know the chorus goes like this: We twa hae run about the braes, and poud the gowans fine; But weve wanderd mony a weary fit, sin auld lang syne. That about sums up one more confusing year on this planet.
The terror comes in with the kissing ritual, which any sane person seeks desperately to avoid. Watching the second hand approach 12, people sidle this way and that to get away from the less appealing folks in the crowd, while others such as myself sneak out of the room entirely. Lots of people dont like kissing strangers in ballrooms, or even holding hands with strangers in church. Just leave us alone!
This celebratory ritual is something that no sober person would ever consider, so participation requires imbibing in vast quantities of champagne. The next morning you wake up with a hangover and start the new year with your head over the toilet. Happy New Year indeed!
It doesnt take many such experiences for most people to decide to just stay home on New Years Eve, which is what everyone does on my street. Its quiet on Methamphetamine Lane until midnight, when a few feeble fireworks left over from the Fourth of July are shot off into the black, wet, sky. Then its back inside to watch Dick Clark wrap up another New Years Eve on TV from his wheelchair. If he had stayed home more often on Dec. 31, he probably wouldnt have had that stroke.