An Honest Description of Every New Year’s Eve Party Ever
by Malini Bose
December 29, 6:18pm
Friend #1 created group “NYE Plan”
Friend #1 added you
You’re now an admin
Friend #1: Guys, what’s the plan?
Friend #2: I’m freaking out! It’s 30th and we still haven’t decided!
Friend #3: Should we just go to LMNOP’s?
Friend #4: No, man. That was really boring last year.
Friend #1: ABCD’s then?
Friend #2: But it’s 2000 bucks. Might not be worth it.
Friend #3: Hmmm. There’ll be decent alcohol though.
Friend #4: Apparently, EFGH is also throwing one.
Friend #1: Please, I’d rather DIE than go to EFGH’s. I hate the new crowd he hangs out with.
You: Erm, I was thinking… Why don’t we just do something small at one of our places?
Friend #2: Don’t be so boring, man! How can we spend New Year’s Eve chilling at home?
December 30, 12.13pm,
Excerpt from Facebook Chat with friend (let’s call him P) from Class 11 Physics Tuition whom you haven’t spoken with since Class 12.
P: Hey, what’s uppppp??????
You: Hi!
P: I saw your pictures! You’re in Cal?
(“Well-deduced, Sherlock,” you want to type. But you don’t. For old time’s sake.)
You: Yup.
P: That’s brilliant!! We should catch up!!!!
You: Sure, let’s.
P: Are you coming to LMNOP’s party on the 31st???
You: I haven’t decided.
P: You should, man. It’ll be too much fun!!! The whole city will be there.
You turn off chat.
December 31, 7pm
You open your cupboard. A tiny shiny dress that you wore to your first no-parents New Year’s Eve party stares back at you.
“You’ll freeze to death,” your father had said.
“Stop trying to make me a nun,” you’d snapped back.
“Well, you’re not leaving the house in that. It’s too short.”
You recall that a compromise involving thick stockings had been reached. Which was just as well because without them, you would have frozen to death. But thanks to the stockings, you’d danced, made merry and pretty much had the time of your life.
Back to the present: for the n-th time, you thank the fashion gods that your fashion sense has evolved. You pick out a boring full-sleeved top and trousers.
December 31, 8:33pm
You wait for your friends to pick you up. You’re hungry. And crabby. And don’t understand why New Year’s Eve parties have to start so late.
December 31, 9:26pm
You arrive and say hello to the hostess (ABCD) whom you had exchanged silly notes with in Bangla class ten years ago. She hands you a welcome shot and points you towards a serpentine queue that can only lead to one thing. The bar.
December 31, 9:46pm
The queue at the counter meanders on. You have wasted twenty minutes of your life trying to get a drink. But you don’t have an option, do you? You now know no other way to have fun.
Finally, a Blenders Pride-Coke (No longer Royal Stag, you’ve moved up in the world.) makes its way into your hand. But just as you’re taking a large swig, an excited sixteen year-old in a tiny shiny dress falls on you. Your golden-fleece-BP tragically makes its way to the floor and mingles with a cocktail of already-spilt drinks, cigarette-ash and phenyl.
Rage.
December 31, 10:03pm
There’s nothing left to say. Friend #1 has talked about her horrible break-up. Friend #2 has ranted about her boss. Random Person #1 has empathised with Friend #1. Random Person #2 has empathised with Friend #2. You have bored Friend #1, Friend #2, Random Person #1 and Random Person #2 with minutiae about your job.
Silence. Everyone looks at his or her phone clock.
December 31, 10:20pm
“This party sucks.” — Friend #3
Someone had to say it. Pandora’s box is now open. Consensus is quickly reached that the bar queue, the music, the crowd, indeed, everything, sucks.
“Let’s get out of here. I refuse to spend my 31st night at this place.” — Friend #4
December 31: 10:55pm
You enter Party #2 hosted by EFGH. You notice an old college friend smoking in the corner. You excuse yourself from the group and go up to him.
Big hug. He asks you a question. WHAT? He repeats it. I CAN’T HEAR YOU. THIS MUSIC IS TOO LOUD. He shrugs a never-mind and hands you a cigarette. You take it.
Drink in one hand, cigarette in another — you’re the epitome of youthful decadence. Everyone who looks at you thinks you’re having fun. And that’s all that matters.
December 31, 11:30pm
30 minutes to 2015 and you’re still not having fun.
Fear not, it’s selfie time! An iPhone is thrust in front of your face. You smile the same smile you always smile.
#30minsto2015 #fun
If Instagram says you’re having fun, you must be.
December 31, 11:40pm
More silence. Then:
“You know, this party’s pretty boring too.” — Friend #1
“What are you saying? It’s so much better than the last one.” — Friend #2
“Guys, LMNOP is having a party right round the corner. Should we go there for the countdown? XYZ just instagrammed a picture and it looks like much more fun.” — Random Person #1
“It’s 11:40, man. What’s the point of going now?” — Random Person #2
“Dude, we’ll make it. Let’s just go.” — Friend #1
December 31, 11:55pm
“I TOLD you we should’ve stayed there. It’s almost midnight and we’re stuck in a bloody car!” — Friend #2
January 1: Midnight
Somewhere outside the car, crackers burst. Friend #1 and Random Person #1 begin to make out. You peer into your phone as the whatsapps keep coming.
Your mother calls. You can hear Auld Lang Syne blaring wherever she is. She wishes you a happy new year, and asks how the party is. Too much fun, you reply.
What a stupid question. Who doesn’t have fun on New Year’s Eve?
January 1: 12:15am
New Year’s resolution: Next New Year’s Eve, chill at home.
Pity that New Year’s resolutions are so damned hard to keep.
Malini Bose studied economics at St. Stephen’s College and liberal arts at the Young India Fellowship. When she is not advocating for bacon-filled KFC, she works as a consultant at the intersection of policy and business. She would eventually like to work at the intersection of mythology and board games.