Ah New Year’s Eve – that time of year when you feel an absurdly immense amount of pressure to do something and make it count...
Every single year without fail, a few months before the fact, everyone is already asking you what you’re planning on doing and you’re faced with the prospect of how the hell you’re going to spend this night. It always starts out so grand – I will travel! I will party! – and then just rapidly disintegrates to you just wanting to curl up in bed and knock yourself out with sleeping pills until the next year. This is basically the path your mind follows in the time leading up to this most monumentally bedan of all nights.
I’m going to travel! Let me check my options – the world is my oyster! I will go to Paris and pop champagne atop the Eiffel Tower, and at midnight I will make out with the hot French man/woman who I will surely meet the minute I arrive in the country, after which we will lay in bed and feed each other cheese or whatever French people do. I will travel to Spain and drink true Spanish sangria and party till dawn and run with the bulls! It will be a fantastic New Year!
I will do none of the above. Who am I kidding? I can barely afford to feed myself, I’ve spent all my money on booze and drugs – I can’t pop champagne atop the Eiffel Tower. But what if… oh no wait, I didn’t get a visa. No Western country will accept me.
It’s okay – the Arab world is still my oyster! I can go to Lebanon. They have hot people there too. And great parties. Okay, I got this. Lebanon it is.
Wait hang on, what’s happening with the tasree7 situation in Lebanon? No one understands. It seems easier to abandon this plan.
How expensive is Gouna? It’s practically Lebanon.
So Gouna’s pretty fucking expensive. I might as well go to Paris. I’ll just pay it! I must be cool! I will not remain in Cairo this NYE!
There’s no space left in Gouna.
Khalas Cairo it is! It’s my hometown; it’s only apt I celebrate the new year here. I love my hometown, I love my hometown. There’s no place like home. It’s all good. I’ll travel next year.
Alright, let’s see what parties are hot and happening. What are my different friends doing? Let me run a cost-benefit analysis on their various plans.
Let me call Ganz.
Ganz isn’t answering. Goddamit.
I don’t know what I’m doing but I do know I need to procure resources for the night. Must contact the brothers Ramone before all they have left is Stolichnaya.
All they have left is Stolichnaya. It’s okay I’ll drink it. I can still get drugs. But this is the last time. The last hurrah. It’s new year’s – lazem. Starting next year I will never touch the devil’s products again.
All the big parties are sold out but that’s okay because like, for real, big parties are so mainstream. I never wanted to go to one anyway. I’m gonna go to a cool house party. That’s so cool. I’m so cool.
It’s December 31st. I don’t have a cool house party to go to. Why isn’t my friend picking up? This is so lame. Who cares about partying on New Year’s? Not me.
I’m just going to take a Xanax and go to sleep. Not before I ruminate miserably about what my life has come to.
I lied. I care about partying on New Year’s. My friend called me back! House party! Jackpot! I’m gonna rally. I WILL be able to say I did something this NYE. I’ll hop in a cab and head right over!
Why am I spending New Year’s with a taxi driver? How did my midnight get to this? Should I kiss the taxi driver?
I’m here. This is not a house party – it’s an after party. How did I end up here, I didn’t even party? It’s just a collection of humans I don't know, fucked out of their minds, downing. It reeks of stale beer and broken dreams. Like the rest of my life. Happy fucking New year.