Wading in the Velvet Sea

2) I am planning on avoiding any and all activity surrounding New Year's Eve, better known as "Life Drops a Flaming Bag of Sh$t From Fifty Feet On Ryan's Head Day" where I come from. I either end up sick as a dog, overintoxicated, or at a place where I end up going, "How in Sam Hell did I get here?"

My only worthwhile story about New Year's Eve that won't bore you to tears:

December 31st, 1996. Having just turned 21 the month before, I was ready to hit the town. My step-cousin came along, with her friend Heather. Heather only came because I promised her that I was pretty sure one of my roommates had some drugs, so she was all excited. This shoulda been the first sign that maybe she wasn't the best stranger to bring along.

We get to my dorm, and turns out my roommate's connection back home didn't come through. So I had to tell heather that, alas, no drugs to be found. She pauses a second, shrugs, and goes, "Oh well, good thing I brought these," and proceeds to pull a bag of mushrooms out of her bra. Can't even make up stuff this good. Honestly. And then she asks me if I want some. "No," I semi-chuckle, "I don't know where those have been." Which is of course a lie since I know where they've been...at least for the past 5 hours.

We end up at a bar on Landsdowne Street here in Boston, which is as close as Boston gets to Bourbon Street. Substitute "drunk tourists" for "drunk rich Europeans sent to Boston schools as a $35K a year babysitting service" and you get the gist. So to this bar goes the step-cousin, her friend, and my cousin and a good 15 of her friends who we meet there. Drinks are flowing, my step-cousin makes drinking buddies with an entire rugby team, the night's going well.

Heather has left to go to the bathroom. I'm with a few people when I notice that that my ex, also named Heather, is pissing and moaning up a storm, pants covered in beer, helped along by another ex of hers, Rich. Rich is this Korean guy from back home, went to the prom with my cousin when I went with Heather, and yea, we all dated. Small town. Turns out Heather and Heather went mano a mano by the bathroom. Since I had been dancing with Mushroom Girl all night, I of the small ego assume of course it's about me. I failed to of course theorize "two piss-ass drunk girls will probably fight if beer is spilt by one onto the other" was the real reason, but hey, I was young and foolish. Now, I am only foolish.

So the 'Schroomster comes back, equally pissed, and glares and Heather and Rich across the room.

"Who's that guy?" she asked.

"Oh you know, an ex," I explain. "Thought they weren't talking anymore, he was kind of a jerk to her. I can't believe she ever dated such a jerk."

Without warning, Schroomie spouts, "Yea, I can't believe she dated a Gook."

I never knew I had the ability to slither away until that moment of my life. Needless to say, I sorta stayed away from the 'Roomie the rest of the night.