When I woke up, it was 12:32 AM January 1st Year Whatever. Coming home from work a few hours prior, I took a nap and when I awoke, the New Year had started without me.
I hastily went into the living room where my roommate was practicing bong rips like he was rehearsing for the Potlympics, straddling a PS3 controller and digging through a bag of Doritos, the Cool Ranch flavored ones.
“I overslept,” I said.
“Oh really?” He didn’t take his eyes off the TV.
“Yeah,” I said bitterly. I threw on my jacket and headed out the door. “You could’ve woken me up.”
“Oh yeah… for tonight… that thing.”
I slammed the door.
I smoked my last cigarette on the walk to downtown. I passed a number of cops barking at drunk drivers, throwing them in handcuffs, carting them off. A few fights broken up. Confetti, burnt out fireworks, busted beer bottles everywhere. I added my cigarette butt to the mix.
I entered a dive bar, but it was already cleared out. Just a middle-aged couple in the corner wearing party hats and giggling, waiting to sober up before attempting to drive home. I ordered a bottle of something cheap from Mexico and glanced at my phone. No missed calls, no texts, nothing. I shot a few texts out to friends asking where the action was and sipped my beer. It was close to 1:00 now, and I got one text back immediately: “Yo mann were at margaritsas!” I chugged my beer and waved the bar tender down for another.
“It’s 1:05,” the bartender said. “You thinkin’ about splitting so I can go home?”
“I missed the ball drop.”
“What?”
“I missed the ball drop, the confetti, the cheering, everything.”
The bartender looked confused and annoyed. I waved the bottle again and he replaced it with a sour look. I apologized, paid him, chugged half the beer and put the other half in my jacket pocket. A road soda. I walked a few blocks and pulled out a sheet of paper with a list on it. At the top was scrawled, RESOLUTIONS. Number (1.) said DON’T APOLOGIZE SO MUCH.
My phone announced another text, this one more garbled than the last: “hollys 2 drrnk pukkin everrwher b sorr dudee . well hang ou t soonn.” I sighed and approached a food truck, ordering a Chicago-style hot dog. I ate it as I walked toward the park. Some fireworks shot off near some trees and two teenagers ran and cop sirens sounded off not far away and the fireworks exploded.
I pulled out my resolutions list again and read number (2.) DON’T EAT JUNK FOOD. I looked down at my hot dog and threw the rest on the ground and stomped on it. Was my memory that bad? These resolutions were written mere hours ago.
I walked to a club and tried to get in, the music still pumping loud. The bouncer grabbed me by the collar, “Twenty dollar cover.” I forked over a twenty and went inside. The music was Top 40 hits strung out through a meat grinder and laced with funk samples. My ears begged for me to take their lives.
By the time I made it to the bar, I was told last call was 15 minutes ago. I took out my Resolutions list and read the last one: (3.) DON’T CALL SARAH. A minute later, I was dialing Sarah. She answered on the third ring.
“Hello?” It was really loud wherever she was and she was yelling. “Who is this?”
“It’s me.”
The phone clicked dead. I waited a minute and dialed again. This time, when she answered, it was quiet in the background.
“Whaddya want?” She almost growled.
“Oh, well, I overslept and missed the ball drop and I was just wondering if you wanted to party or hang out or anything or yeah.”
“Now’s not the time,” Sarah said. “Maybe tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah, um, OK, yeah, call me.”
“Sure.”
Click “Sorry.”
I walked home and kicked at things and swore under my breath. A girl was ahead of me, so I tried to walk slower and she switched to the other side of the sidewalk and without meaning to I yelled, “I’m not a rapist.”
“What?” She turned. “Hey, wait a minute, I know you.”
Years ago, she was in my African American Literature class. Her name was Julie.
“What are you doing out here?”
“I live over there.” I pointed. “In those apartments.”
“Oh, well, cool. Nice to run into you.”
She walked a few steps and I said after her, “I missed the ball drop.”
“Huh?”
“You know, the ball drop, the whole shebang.”
“This is Tempe. We don’t have a ball drop. That’s way off in New York or something.”
“Yeah, but still.”
“Still what.”
“Sorry. I was just… disappointed isn’t the right word. I dunno.”
A police siren did the whole Doppler number the next street over. Julie paused. “You wanna drink some hot chocolate at my place? That way you can walk me home and I won’t get mugged or killed.”
“Sure,” I nodded.
“No promises.”
“What?”
“I mean,” she paused and hiccupped. “Don’t expect anything.”
“Oh,” I said. “I don’t.”
She stumbled into me. “Sorry, mighta drank too much.”
We talked about that class we shared, then school in general and why we both dropped out and what we were doing now, which was mostly working low-end jobs until we got fired or found a different low-end job. When we reached her place, we she made hot chocolate and she spiked it with Bailey’s and we ate some leftover Christmas cookies and sat on her couch watching TV.
“So, how was the rest of your New Year’s, besides missing the ‘big moment‘?” Julie asked. “Overslept. Had a beer or two. Not much to say.”
“Well, you didn’t miss much. I just drank myself into a coma and got hit on by ugly dudes from ASU.”
“Do you have any New Year’s Resolutions?”
“Yeah. Do you?”
“Sort of,” I muttered.
“What are they?”
“I don’t wanna say.”
“Don’t you think it’s kind of hokey?”
“Hokey how?” Julie said. “Just tell me.”
“I can’t. Otherwise, they won’t come true.”
“They aren’t birthday wishes, dummy. They’re choices,” Julie set her coffee mug down. “I’ll tell you mine.”
“What does it matter? I broke all of them in less than an hour anyway.”
Julie laughed and it startled me. I realized she was still tipsy. “You wanna smoke?”
“Nah. Not in the mood.”
On TV there was Hawaii, downtown Wherever-Lu, and they had a pineapple for a ball and it started dropping; 10, 9, 8, 7….
“Wanna kiss?” I asked.
6, 5, 4, 3…
“Why not?” Julie grinned.
2… 1…
Her lips tasted like vodka, hot chocolate, Bailey’s and sugar cookies.
“So you already broke your resolutions? Does it feel good at least?”
I shook my head no.
“Let’s break mine.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me to her bedroom.
“You didn’t tell me what your resolution was.”
“Oh yeah. It’s to stop sleeping with strange men,” she said and pulled me down on the bed.
