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Crescent City (Mis)Connection: The perils of committing to New Year’s Eve plans

New Orleans was recently voted best city to spend New Year’s Eve by Travel and Leisure Magazine. How could it not? We are known for our professional partying and as being the #1 spot for singles and hookups.

It seems like the ideal situation for a single girl like myself. However, it’s New Year’s Eve and I have yet to commit to plans for the big night. This, being a big decision apparently, sent my neurosis on an uncontrollable ride while attempting to make final plans for the year’s most overrated night.

Last year, I threw an impromptu party that turned out to be a surprising success, considering I started planning it the day before. It was really special to be able to have all my friends under one roof to celebrate the New Year.

I thought about doing it again this year. Then, after all my friends told me that “they would try to make it to the party after dinner with their significant others,” I imagined myself sitting at home watching Carson Daily on TV with my dog, 75 noisemakers, 15 empty bottles of champagne, and no friends. It was the saddest night I could ever imagine for myself, and concluded that I would rather ring in the New Year getting a root canal done by Freddie Krueger.

I can now scratch “party” off the list.

So, what are my other options?

Fight the crowds on Jackson Square and hope to find some strapping, single man out there? No.

Spend about $200 for a club party, hate my life for making that decision, and get my mouth mauled by an overly juiced up guy wearing an “Affliction” shirt? Absolutely not.

Wait an hour for a cab that will abandon me in the Quarter, get suckered into going to Gold Mine where I may possibly get trampled, then walk or hitchhike home out of desperation? I would rather not do that again.

At this point, I am dangerously close to joining someone else’s dinner as the third or fifth wheel. While my friends aren’t aware of this plan yet, I figure, at least I can get a delicious meal out of being miserable this year.

And, as for the New Year kiss. Unless it’s your boyfriend, I’ve decided that it’s not about who you’re kissing at midnight. I say, it’s about who you spend kissing all year long. And I would rather focus on that prospect anyway.

Happy New Year, New Orleans!

Pookie Lola writes Crescent City (Mis)Connection weekly for NolaVie.


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