Don't think I've ever had a bad time at a New Year's party, on account of all the rampant boozing, rampant-boozing women falling out of their dresses, and shiny cardboard hats with glitter on them. This year was no exception.
As has been the case for the past several years, our friends got scattered around town on December 31, with some opting for smaller house parties and others hitting Bonaventure or Giant's six-block megaparty. I think we chose well with Visionshock. Besides the open bar, the lines weren't all that bad compared to the congested nightmare that was the Bonaventure party. And Giant got cancelled at the last minute, depriving over 12,000 partygoers of the opportunity to freeze their asses off to trance.
After the balloons fell and I kissed the girl, I came to the realization that this decade was half-finished. Before I could figure out if the past five years flew by in blink or cruised along at a leisurely gait, somebody handed me a tequila shot.
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