Since coming to college, my New Year’s have been…
Two years ago I was in Paris on a study abroad trip. We planned to go to the Eiffel Tower to watch the fireworks, and it had been mentioned that we’d be getting there on a boat. Long story short, the boat didn’t happen and I spent the night sober, freezing, and walking roughly 6 miles in high heels. I was jostled by rowdy crowds, harassed by drunk losers, and almost hit with a firecracker. Did I mention this happened the day we landed?
Last year I was home and spent New Year’s with my friends from high school, which was awesome, except that I decided to let that night be dictated by emotional drinking which led to my first debilitating hangover! I spent the first day of 2011 bemoaning my existence with only my couch, blanket, and chocolate cake leftover from the party to console me. #winning
So, naturally, I kept my expectations low for this year. Like, really low.
My inner homebody told me to stay in with my parents, but I sucked it up and let the attitude to roll with the punches guide my night. As a result, I ended up at a private party at a pub in Bloomsbury that some guy I met the week before with Marnie invited me to. It was really fun, I didn’t pay for my drinks, I met some actors, I bumped into an American, and I even let my new friends convince me to stay out two hours longer than I had planned. Around 2, when the pub was closing, I had a nagging feeling I was done for the night even though the party was relocating to some hip penthouse in Camden with fabulous views of all of London.
“Oh my Gooooddd, come ON, how often are you in LONDON for NEW YEAR’S?”
“Live a little!!!”
Those guilt tripping lines from the people I just met were quite tempting. Rolling with the punches and throwing caution to the wind have given me experiences permanently seared into my memory and have led me to laughs, sobs, love, and some fucking amazing opportunities. Heading out to Camden to party till the sun comes up could be really awesome. Yet when I look at the year ahead, there will be plenty of opportunities to do away with pragmatism. Besides, my inner homebody wanted to finish a few more chapters in my book. It’s ok to say no.
And so I did. Instead of walking towards the metro arm in arm with the cute guy in the fair isle cardigan, I walked myself home in the London rain, grabbed some ice cream, and read some more of my new favorite book before passing out.
A night of indulging both the party girl and the one who’d rather stay in? Sounds like a perfect New Year’s to me.