January 5 , 2004 - Shiny, Happy People

Beforehand, a group of us had decided to meet up and go to a local brew pub. When all but this one friend had showed, we decided to head out to the brew pub and hope he would meet up with us there. I referred to this friend as The Dormouse when I wrote about my Adventures in Otakon this year.

We had been seated and were enjoying our drinks, waiting to order, when The Gryphon got a call. His face got suddenly serious. "Are you all right? Where are you?" Turns out The Dormouse had been in an accident. He'd been lost finding his way to the hotel, and when he tried to turn around, he got broadsided by another car.

Fortunately, the full force of the impact struck his rear door, and not the driver's side door. The car, essentially, was totaled.

After some short discussion amongst ourselves, a couple people volunteered to go pick him up. The Dormouse arrived at the restaurant near the end of our meal, and the waiter brought out the wings we'd ordered, at his request.

He seemed a bit shaken but was smiling, nonetheless. He tried to put a bright face on it, saying that he would have had to do a lot of repairs on the car soon anyway. Needless to say, for the rest of the evening, he got a lot of free drinks.

After that shock, the rest of the evening seemed doubly celebratory. It was the usual crew, many of them friends of mine since college, and we had a great time.

I had printed out some theater games, by request. Someone had suggested that it would be nice if we came up with something to do other than "sit around and drink." Of course, every time I brought them out, people seemed disinclined to play. "Maybe later," they'd say.

Eventually, I gave up and resorted to Plan B, trying to get people to dance. I was shameless, putting on music and coming around to the tables. "The least you can do in honor of Robert Palmer's memory is to dance to his music," I'd urge. My pleadings fell on deaf ears, but I did get some feet tapping by playing "Our House" by Madness.

Time was on my side. Eventually, a few people got out on the floor, the women pulling their men out to dance, as everyone grew tipsier.

Since we had our own private bartender, I used the opportunity to learn more about drinks. I never know what to order, so I usually get a beer or a White Russian. The bartender sympathized with me, and throughout the evening, when he saw my glass was low, he'd suggest a new drink, all of them "girlie" drinks: sweet, sour or colorful.

I'd go over to The Gryphon and say, "I've got a new girlie drink. Want to try it?" He humored me, which was good because he also bought me most of the drinks. Throughout the night, I sampled a Bahama Mama, a Pink Lady, a Melonball, a Grape Crush, and an Amaretto Sour. This doesn't count the champagne toast at midnight.

I was, however, still sober enough to man the videocamera for a friend for awhile. He had brought his digital videocamera and was documenting the party for posterity. My job was to take over the camera when he got bored with it. This was quite entertaining, actually, zooming in and out of conversations, getting people to say or do strange things. I can't wait to see it; he's going to burn copies for us all.

My sister had told me was planning to propose to her boyfriend that night, and I checked my phone at one point, seeing that I had a missed call from her. I tried to call her back but didn't get a response. The Gryphon assured me this was probably a good sign. If it had been bad news, she would have been sitting by the phone, waiting for a return call.

Near midnight, we put on the TV and watched the countdown. The Gryphon's arm was around me, feeling all kinds of comforting. We kissed at midnight. Very nice.

A few seconds afterward, a few people in unison demanded, "Where is my flying car?" Here we are, 2004, still driving regular cars. Which may, when you think about it, be a good thing. I mean, think of the accidents you could have with a flying car.

I joked with some friends about how I'd heard that however you spend New Year's is how you'll spend the rest of the year, and that last year I was hanging out in a bar, where I got groped by a stranger.

I liked this year's beginning better.

Moral:
Strangers just don't cut it on New Year's.