Happy New Year at the Hi-Tone from Lindsey Turner on Vimeo.
That was the scene at the Hi-Tone last night, after the free cups of champagne had been poured down our gullets with great fanfare and meticulously timed lip kisses, between sets by the Tennessee Tearjerkers and Harlan T. Bobo. I didn’t capture the midnight countdown on camera because I was too busy double fisting (the remains of my Jack and Coke in the left and a swiftly warming skunky cup of bubbly in the right) and planning what sort of smooch I was going to plant on my man. (For the record: A tasteful one, unlike some coupled-up revelers to whom I might have shouted, “Get a room!” had they not been so got-danged attractive.)
I wasn’t feeling sufficiently lubricated (the Hi-Tone always brings out the worst of my social jitters), so I put some tequila down the hatch, and shortly after that, I found myself attempting to manually text some variation of “Happy new year” to everyone in my address book rather than send a mass text. Except that didn’t last beyond maybe half a dozen people because my god I hate typing on an iPhone and by then the show had started up again and I felt compelled to crane my neck upwards so I could pretend to see anything on stage. (I did catch a glimpse of Harlan’s magnificent broken-mirror coat, and was briefly filled with worry that if anyone hugged him, there would be more blood than I had ever seen before.) I did manage to text “Happy blue beard” to the boyfriend, which seemed really funny at the time because tequila tends to make me think like a third grader. He didn’t actually get the text until we got home, and he was very confused.
We stayed through several songs but headed out once He Who Was Hot But Refused to Take His Coat Off had had enough of the festivities. I remember walking to the car with a bit of an attitude, and intentionally stepping in enough puddles that my shoes and pants were soaked, so I just took off my shoes and walked barefoot. I believe the shoes are still in the car and I suspect they are responsible for the smell I noticed in there today. Don’t worry — I managed not to step on any AIDS-infected needles so at least I have that going for me in 2011.
So far this new year’s been pretty swell. Yes, I did spend the evening at work, but I spent the entire morning and afternoon in bed, making funny noises, napping the booze out, and stitching crappy panoramas on my phone.
Last year had its pretty intense moments — high and low — and I both gained someone in my life who is very dear to me and nearly lost someone who is very dear to me. Seems like a lot of people are waving goodbye to 2010 with a single upturned finger, and while November and December conspired to kick my everloving ass all over the place, I am going to rank 2010 as a good year, one full of new life and new beginnings and new ways of looking at things. The possibilities remain endless for all of us. May your new year be filled with sublime joy, every way you can get it.