Celebrating New Year’s Eve 2006
I find myself among the throngs of the tragically stupid. Here we have an idiot trying to hail a cab by running headlong into oncoming traffic as his cohorts wait dumbfounded on the side of the road. Then there’s the girl with the Fran Drescher voice complaining about the heat on the bus. Of course, when someone thought to open a window, she complained about the cold air on her legs.
Well, what else would I expect? It’s New Year’s Eve in NYC and time to fight my way against the tide of tourists and cops on my way to dinner with friends. I’ve never understood the appeal of the whole Times Square fandango. Overcrowded, no place to sit or pee and, within ten minutes of striking midnight, you’re forced to leave the area or be fined for loitering.
Luckily for me, Times Square was not my destination, just an inconvenient obstacle I needed to cross on my way to my real plans. For a while I thought I’d be spending the night alone. Any plans I tried to make would inevitably be foiled for one reason or another. I don’t normally make a big deal about New Year’s Eve, but 2006 was a special year and I wanted to celebrate it in a special way. I just didn’t know what that would be.
Then, outta the blue I get a text from my friend Paul. He was trying to see who would be in town for and if anyone would be interested in dinner and a party. This seemed the perfect thing for me since I was looking for something symbolic to ring out the old. Aside from spending the night with a few good friends and the chance to make a few new ones, Paul and I had been working on several business projects together.
That’s not to say I was thinking or talking business all night. In fact it never came up. But it was all about the symbolism. The fact is Paul and his business partner Margo—who was also going to be with us—played a large part in my escape from the corporate world. This combined with every other plan of mine falling thru just made it all too perfect to pass up. I grow even more thankful for each passing moment of the night.
The commute in from Hoboken was actually not as bad as I had expected. Sure the bus was crowded, but judging from how many folks were left behind at the bus stops, I had gotten an early jump on them. Luckily there was no traffic at all going into the Lincoln tunnel. On a night like this, in a matter of minutes you could go from super-easy flow into the city or total gridlock auto prison hell. The train was remarkably empty as well. Then again I was traveling away from Times Square.
Dinner at Niko’s Mediterranean Grill and Bistro
Niko’s (2161 Broadway, NYC) is an old-school, friendly Greek eatery. The menu is jam-packed with choices. So much so that browsing it is like virtually traveling thru several different restaurants. The most appealing things to me were on the kids’ menu. Unfortunately my facial hair made it impossible for me to pass as being under twelve years old. Now, had they been judging based on emotional age, I’d have been in.
It was pretty hot in the place. I was glad to be sitting by the door. I guess a lot of places are having a hard time regulating the heat since we’re having such an oddly mild winter. I was having a hard time making up my mind. There was just so much to choose from. When Paul arrived he had us moved to a back room. I joked about how now I’d have to go thru the whole menu perusal thing again. But moving would prove to be the right thing since we ended up with more than fifteen people in our party.
Finally, I thought I’d made up my mind about what to order. I was all set to get a chicken dish but at the last second I blurted out that I wanted the beef rib special and some Ouzo. I’m not usually one that goes for sweet liquors, but I acquired a taste for this licorice rocket fuel thanks to my late stepfather. In his efforts to introduce me to he Greek culture, it figures it would be the booze that most appealed to me.
I moved from table to table catching up with some folks I hadn’t seen in a while and getting to know a few new ones. Slowly but surely the waiters brought out the food. Each dish that passed by looking more delicious than the last. I was told mine would be large but I thought for $19.95 in NYC how large could it really be? Well, let me put it to you this way, when I got my food and someone asked what I ordered I replied, “Apparently one of the cook’s arms.” Seriously, this was one rib that could feed a village.
Penthouse Party on 72nd Street
After dinner, we made our way to the next of what would turn out to be many stops of the night. All I knew was a friend of Paul named Chris was having a party at his penthouse apartment. Figuring this would be a nice chill gathering, I was more than happy to tag along with my bottle of Yellowtail Shiraz for the party and a flask of Jack Daniels for me. We marched in and basically overran the small apartment. Luckily there was a large terrace that wrapped around the outside perimeter.
At this point I was a little miffed at myself for not bringing my camera. But I got over that after a few drinks and some really nice conversations. One that stands out was with Paul’s friend Jackie. We talked about our mutual desire something to celebrate tonight, but how neither of us really knew what that was. And we both got the same last minute message from Paul bringing us each to this place tonight purely by coincidence. We talked about the fact that the weather was nearly perfect though a bit chilly and overcast.
Then at midnight came an unexpected surprise. As we were all counting down as usual, a flash of colored light caught my eye and a boom-boom cracked my ears. It was an amazing fireworks display in Central Park. Being high above 72nd Street and Broadway, we were perfectly situated to watch and to ooh and aw and scream and yell. A few moments later, it began to rain. I looked at Jackie and said, “This is it. This is the perfect New Year’s celebration that I needed.” She smiled in agreement.
Barhopping on the Lower East Side
Before leaving the party, I was left standing by myself out on the street. I was waiting for Paul and his friend Danny to get back from the ATM. I started to think that maybe I should go home. In a brief moment of self loathing I proclaimed, “If I leave now at least I know I can fuck myself.” This made the guys laugh and it was not long before I was in the cab with them heading downtown. Now, why we took a cab I will never know.
We were very close to the train and we all knew that the drive first across town and then down would be murder. Remember, Times Square was not only closed all day to get ready for the crowds, there was now a river of people trying to get away from the area. That river would flood the entire midtown area. Sure enough we crawled thru Central Park until finally getting to the FDR Drive. I wound up losing track of the time, but when we eventually got to our first stop on Clinton and Rivington, the fare was nearly $30.00.
Crudo (54 Clinton St, NYC)
It’s a thin, crowded place with a cool back-alley feel. Metal light fixtures hang from the whitewashed brick walls. There is some modern sketch art behind the bar. The furniture includes bulky little tables and stationary red diner stools. The drinks were very pricey and tiny. I think it was Paul who first suggested we move on, but Danny and I did not protest. Too many couples for three single guys to deal with. Off we went.
Motor City Bar (127 Ludlow St, NYC)
We step inside this Detroit themed, punk flavored classic joint. The floors are stickier, the music is harder and the women are a touch skankier. Definitely a step in the right direction. The drinks were a little cheaper, but a lot larger. Each of us were sending out New Year’s texts and making calls to see who was doing what. It was decided we’d head back to Crudo to meet with Paul’s friend RJ.
The Slipper Room (167 Orchard St, NYC)
Billed as NY’s sexiest showplace, we thought it would be fun to catch a little New Year’s burlesque. But when we got to the door, the place was empty. Sure they lowered their cover to just $5.00, but Danny almost had them convinced to let us in for free. Just then some bitchy girl cut in and said, “Come on, there’s naked women.” To which I replied, “Um, we’re standing right here. We can see there our no naked women.” So we left.
The Delancey (168 Delancey St, NYC)
After that, we decided to take a walk and meet Jackie and her friends at The Delancey. The rain was coming harder now, but no one really seemed to care. Danny had stepped in some puke but we figured the rain would wash his shoes clean. We laughed as we strolled over to The Delancey. To our shock, despite being 2:30, they refused to lower their $20.00 cover. This place was hopping so we probably would have agreed to a discount. Instead, we moved on.
St. Jerome (155 Rivington St, NYC)
It seemed as though maybe we’d never find the right place for us. That is until we rolled up on a very unassuming doorway with music blaring behind it and free admission. We stepped in to the stale smelling air and among the sweltering bodies. Go-Go dancers, $2.00 beer and Blitzkrieg Bop make this was even more of a step in the right direction. The metallic squid-shaped lamps hang on crimson walls. There’s a small stage in the back. All under an old-world tin ceiling.
I spoke with Conrad who works the door. We lamented about the demise of this area but reveled in the hope of places like this to keep it gritty and interesting. Their daily happy hour of $2.00 Bud runs until midnight. Sure, I know it’s Bud. But scarcity of money often brings unfortunate necessity. Apparently they have a rockin’ party every Friday night. I’ll have to check it out some time.
After a while—and a few more beers—it was time for me to head home. RJ and Paul had made a couple of new friends. The one girl I was talking to, left. Danny had gone home some time earlier. So this looked like as good a time as any to brave the rain to the train. Along the way I smiled about how this was the exact night I needed. It was a long commute home at this hour, but I didn’t mind. I knew it was worth it as I dragged myself up the stairs and into my apartment at 5:53 AM and wished myself one final Happy New Year!
