The New Year’s Eve LD:
Picked up D&G from the airport. Ate a HUUUGGEEEE lunch at Bill’s place (lining the stomach, we rationalized). Took naps. Started getting ready for NYE. I curled my hair so that it was super duper curly, and D helped me apply fake lashes. We both put glitter everywhere–around our eyes, on our bodies, on our lips. I kind of looked heroin chic with all the black eyeliner I had gobbed around my eyes.
It must have taken us 4 hours to decide on what to wear. D ended up borrowing my sparkly gold top, and I settled for my off-the-shoulder black number with slits in the sleeves, jeans, and orange-y, goldish sandals.
And then, the moment of truth–DJs arrival. He and C had carpooled together from the east bay to our house since C was in Oakland housesitting. I went to greet them at the door, mostly to check to see what C was wearing–and yeah, DJ’s eyes basically fell out of his head. The whole thing was actually pretty awkward. Even though we said our hellos, I could barely make eye contact b/c he was staring so hard.
Everything went as planned–like a “well-oiled machine,” if you will. From 7-730, we ate our pizza (more stomach lining). From about 730-8, we took stupid pictures. From 8-830, we waited for our cab. At 9 pm, as planned, we arrived at Levende Lounge for the “Under the Stars New Years Eve” party.
We chose levende b/c we wanted a more intimate VIP sort of atmosphere where we didn’t have to deal with long lines and deal with a million frat boys humping us on the dance floor. We also wanted to dance, and according to DJ, the lineup featured really good “Deep House” music. So, while the ticket cost was pretty steep, I justified it by the fact that included in the cost was free vodka drinks, and free(what turned out to be amazing) food all night long.
I always hate walking into a club–those first few moments of awkwardness of having all eyes on you, and then of trying to claim a spot to call your own. After our “welcome shot” (sex on the beach?), we moved swiftly to the bar and started ordering drinks. I made a beeline to the buffet table and proceeded to taste everything in sight–lamb-burgers, crab on toast, oysters, soup shots (that we mistook for alcholic shots), pate, etc. I ate waaay too much, but it was so good and so tempting. Finally, food and drinks consumed, we headed to the dance floor.
For some reason, DJ was acting like my wingman–picking out potential guys for me. Uhhh, yeah…true, I like tall guys, but not just ANY tall guy geez. There were a few characters on the floor as well: One lady kind of looked like a sparkly elf–red dress cut in zig zags at the bottom, over green tights. She had a 5 foot baton/scepter thing that she was spinning around. Then there was D’s favorite–this lady she was convinced was a transexual b/c her shoulders were too broad and here hair was “ugly.” Another girl wore black elastic straps covering the crucial parts of her body. Another wore a tiny tiny sequined dress; the skirt barely covering her ass. Later, I found out that DJ thought that girl was hot. Um yeah.
Oh, but lets not forget “Vampire”–a tall girl w/short, slicked back hair, who wore full on vampyre wear–cape, corset, full length satin skirt. So out of place. Needless to say, me and the crew were very normal in comparison to the group of people assembled at Levendede.
We settled on a place near the dj platform–an unfortunately high traffic area. Sometime during the night, we received all sorts of new years paraphanelia: hats, crowns, horns, streamers, etc. I used the horns to blow in pretty much everyones ears as they walked through our dancing circle. Pretty amazing what people let you get away with. The only person who I thought was going to slap me was Andy Caldwell’s girlfriend (andy was one of the djs that night). She was bitchy from the getgo, yelling at andy for getting her the wrong drink, and just standing on the dance floor chatting in a high-pitched voice w/her girlfriends. Finally, I said to her and her group, “Less talking, more dancing.” Unbelievably, one of the guys in the group said sorry, and moved off the dance floor!
There was another guy dancing next to us who was a DJ groupy. He was tallish, very blonde, and with super shaggy hair. Everyone was obsessed w/his hair, so I finally reached up an tousled it. He turned around, very good humored, and I said, “Is your hair real?” He laughed and said he was growing it out, blah blah. Then he introduced himself. D asked if his name was John, from Chips. He said no. Then I asked if I could call him John anyway. He shrugged, “sure, I guess. Why not. Its not everyday that I have a beautiful woman complimenting me on my hair.” Heh. He was a good guy. Bought G a drink. A little bit 1985 prepster, but very good sense of humor/easygoing–I like that.
Throughout the night, various guys came and danced with us, but nobody stuck around, and nobody hit on us really. This one guy bumped into my drink and, being that I was pretty belligerent the entire night, I told him he owed me a drink. He agreed, but then I said, “nevermind, Ill just have your drink.” Then I took his drink.
At midnight, we all went crazy–throwing streamers and blowing horns in peoples’ ears. C and I “played” our horns along with the music, I picked up a huge tangle of streamers and threw it on top of a group of guys…then ran away. It was really fun, and I felt really happy being there–surrounded by my friends. For a brief moment, I thought about my exes–about scb, about X2, but it was a fleeting moment, and I recall thinking how glad I was to be single with all the people in my life that I have.
And so, NYE started off with a bang, and with no boy drama. Earlier in the night, I had a feeling that I was going to kiss a random guy. I told DJ to watch me b/c i could get in trouble ala my 25th bday, and also to keep me away from the shots. He asked who I was going to get in trouble with, and I said, “I dunno…anyone…maybe you…” Then I laughed b/c I am evil and live to torment DJ and have his attention. His eyes looked as if he considered it for a second, maybe two, but then he continued dancing b/c hes a dancing machine. (For the record, DJ dances the way Id expect him to dance…like a clubby kinda guy).
After dancing dancing and dancing, and never taking a break, I started to feel really lightheaded and nauseous–and not b/c of the alcohol. All of a sudden, I felt claustrophobic, like the room was spinning and that I couldnt breathe. I spent a lot of time in the bathroom, just trying to catch my breath. Finally, I went outside–and felt better until a crowd of smokers settled around me blowing smoke into my face.
DJ was still inside dancing/getting drinks. D pulled him outside and told him to help G flag down a cab. It was pouring rain and G and DJ were in the middle of the road, soaked, waving down anything with wheels. I started hyperventilating again, and went back inside to the bathroom. Came back out and still no cab. We collectively decided to walk up a few blocks in hopes that hailing a cabe would be easier. Strangely, DJ and G were all of a sudden dry again, even though just moments before, they were drenched.
As we stood on a busy corner in the mission, in front of a convenience store, a brand new lincoln towncar (leather interior) pulled up. G leaned in to talk to the driver, and the next thing we know, we’re piled into the back seat of a car driven by a guy with a large tattoo of a dragon/scorpion/horse on his right hand (what we called a prison tatt), and who went by the name of “junior.”
I have no idea what Junior did for a living, or if this was his normal gig. He was from Brazil. He talked about his “clients.” And drove like a madman–head turned to the backseat to stare at C, and hands never on the wheel. Either he was shaking hands with DJ (who was directly behind him) or showing C pix of his bike on his cell phone.
For about 15 minutes, Junior drove in the opposite direction of our house, and DJ, clinging on to the side of the car, face pressed against the window, started freaking out. I kept yelling, “focus, focus” to Junior, who was preoccupied with about a zillion other things besides driving. All of sudden, he stopped the car, and next thing I know, G is in the backseat and C is in the drivers seat…next to junior. In hopes of getting us home safely, I yelled to C, “take one for the team,” knowing full-well Junior had his eye on her.
Im sure Junior was a criminal with a heart of gold…or something…but we didnt know. For all we knew, he was going to take us to hunters point and have us dig our own graves. At that point, I just wanted junior to focus on driving and to keep him as happy as possible. When he told DJ that he made him “nervous,” we all tried our best to ease juniors mind that DJ was just sick (which he was–he was getting very carsick due to Juniors driving). When Junior told me i had attitude (even though I only spoke 2 words to him), I tried my best to just play it off and become his buddy (more handshakes ensued).
Finally–we arrived at our place. Although at first, he overshot our house. Man, at that point, everyone had their hands on the doorhandle, ready to jump if need be. When he came to a stop. we all rushed out and made a beeline for the front door. When we were at the top of the first flight of stairs, I realized C was not with us, and then sent G back down to make sure she wasnt getting abducted.
So alls well that ends well. We decompressed back at the house, drinking tea and exchanging war stories of our time with junior. DJ barked at me to get him some aspirin — he looked like he was in really bad shape. D changed into her PJs and headed for the bedroom.
Meanwhile, G made a phone call to his friend: “Hey…uh…man…uh….Happy New Year, Fucker.” Click. Silence. Then we all started laughing uncontrollably. D came out of the bedroom, laughing, and then since we were all awake, we decided to play “Would You Rather,” a card game I had laying around. It all began with the question, “Would you rather…live on Sesame Street, or…live on Sunset Beach?” Uhh, is that even a question? G continued this line of thought with, “So, you’re saying I could live down the street from an asshole in a trashcan…or live on a nice beach…hard choice.” We all died laughing. Hours later, the game had come full-circle, morphing into, “would you rather have sex in a trashcan, or eat cottage cheese out of junior’s mouth…with a spoon?”
We all went to bed at 4am, having danced and laughed the night and morning away. After everyone else went to bed, DJ and I stayed up talking until about 6 or 7 in the morning. It was very cool–it felt like we were 2 kids building a fort in the living room, and staying up all night talking about hopes, dreams, loves, etc.
So that was how the year began. DJ and I didn’t kiss as everyone anticipated. I still hold that if we didn’t make out at the stroke of midnight, then it will never happen. D confirmed what I have felt all this time: she said that we had a chemistry, but she couldnt see us together.
No guys really hit on either me or C the entire night. DJ told me that guys were checking me out the entire night, but were looking for some kind of recognition in order for them to approach. He said that he now understood why guys dont approach me–b/c I’m “unnaproachable,” he said. I have no idea what that means. I was having a great time, talking to people beside me, laughing. How is that not approachable?
As for the exes–as I said, they didn’t really enter my mind the entire evening. There weren’t any drunkdials either way. The following day, I sent a text message to scb, telling him happy new years.