Hmmm, they really dropped the ball on my New Year’s.

New Year’s is my favorite holiday.

It’s a new year. You have a clean slate. Your diet will work this year. Your boss will notice you. That banjo is going to get learned. It’s brand new year, full of hope and new beginnings.

And there’s one night to celebrate this new year, where everyone gets together, everyone gathers around and wears absurd plastic hats and watches the ball drop and listens to Ryan Seacrest try to make you forget about who Dick Clark is.

It’s an excuse to drink an exorbitant amount of champagne (or peach Andre), to get super dressed up, wear tons of glitter without getting any Ke$ha remarks, and to say rabbit rabbit and have good luck for the entire year.

I’ve gone to great lengths to commemorate this holiday. I’ve thrown two-day long parties to honor it. I’ve traveled across the world to spend it with friends and family. I’ve stood outside in the freezing cold for hours to watch Richmond’s version of the ball drop.

It’s a holiday that really falls under the radar. Sure there’s no special songs to honor it or gifts to be unwrapped. No glitzy light tours or special blend from Starbucks.

But you don’t have to worry about maniacal holiday shoppers. You don’t have to take out a loan to afford presents for everybody. You don’t have to buy an 8-foot tall tree to put in the middle of your house or dig through the trenches of your rat-infested attic to find tangled decorations. There are no poisonous poinsettias that could leave you without a cat. There are no drunk uncles. No fathers to tell embarrassing stories. No confusion as to which family to spend the holiday with. No cooking. No cleaning. No decorating.

No hiding eggs.

No scary costumes.

No confetti hearts.

Just all your friends. A few streamers. A sparkle or two. Maybe a dress made completely out of sequins.

Midnight strikes, snag a kiss, and blow an obnoxious horn.

Celebrate the fact that you made it through the year, and look forward to the new one to come.

New Year’s…is a great holiday.

So, I made it through Thanksgiving. Meandered through Christmas. And, as always, have been greatly anticipating the pending New Year.

I spent weeks trying to decide how to celebrate it this year, where to spend it, who to spend it with, what to wear, where to find 2013 sunglasses.

Until I received the schedule from the restaurant of my employment…letting me know that I will be working that night.


On New Year’s Eve.

Now, I’m not a big crier. I don’t cry at weddings. I’ve never cried at a movie. I didn’t shed a tear when I moved to another country and had to say goodbye to everyone. I didn’t even cry when Bambi’s mother died.

But when I found out that my New Year’s Eve was going to be ruined…


No, literally…I sobbed. At my desk. Blotchy skin, face in hands, heaving shoulders.

No glitter, no streamers, no 2013 sunglasses, no ball drop, and the only champagne I’ll see all night will be from the bottles that I’m selling.

Eventually, however, I came to terms with this.

AFTER begging everyone I know to cover my shift for me. Including non-coworkers.

Mom, I’m still a little upset you wouldn’t help me out.

But really, I came to accept my fate and am willing to work on New Year’s. There will be no smiling, friendliness, or general pleasantry that’s required for a waitressing position, but I have submitted to the fact that I’ll be there.

After all, it shouldn’t be a very big night. Of all the things there are to do in the city of Richmond, all the open bars and outrageous events, our small young restaurant likely won’t even be on anybody’s radar for the holiday. I even started thinking that I might get out early enough to do something.

Until I found out that my restaurant of employment will be hosting a New Year’s Eve event.

Our one-year-old restaurant, in the heart of Southside, is going to host a NEW YEAR’S EVE EVENT.

With a complimentary champagne toast at midnight.

And a Sinatra impersonator from 10:30-12:30.

This isn’t a sales pitch.

It’s a plea to NOT COME.

So, I found out about our event.

More tears. A few foot stomps.

And multiple thoughts of quitting.

But, I pulled myself together and again, came to terms with my fate. I’ll be spending New Year’s Eve ensuring the good time of everyone else while trying not to be too bitter.

And besides, this is great news for all of you fans that hadn’t found a live Sinatra performance yet.

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