It was the last day of the year. The wind was wild, angry, and biting with cold.
I spent several hours running errands with a friend in preparation. There was a dull haze in everyone that we encountered. An ominous vibe was seeping into each minute and I was starting to worry about the evening plans. But we pushed forward.
I was going more weary of New Year’s Eve with each passing year. However, December 31st provides an excuse to watch people get drunk and potentially dismember themselves with explosives. It would be foolish not to look forward to it in some perverse way.
Darkness arrived and my house-guest waited as long as possible to delouse himself. He sped up when the taxi arrived. The driver looked like a poor man’s John Getz. He quickly informed us that he was the greatest cab driver to ever live.
This statement was delivered with a deadly serious a tone. An urge manifested within me, it might be good sense to toss this man to the ground and defile him with his own “sparkling clean” 12 year old automobile. Instead, we proceeded to our destination.
As we drove, the driver insisted that someone behind us was driving with their high beams on and pulled over and waited for this person to pass. I didn’t notice high beams, but I did notice the driver reaching for something under the seat. My sense of dread multiplied.
The drive bragged about athletes doing illegal things in the back of this very taxi and how his discretion was impeccable. Driving and patting yourself on the back is difficult, but this man was adept at both. Relief came as we pulling into “Anthony and Cleopatra’s” hall.
As we walked in, I noticed the alarming number of elderly revelers. My thoughts were interrupted when the Mongolian appeared from the back area. He had arrived with his entourage a few minutes earlier and was already drinking. Inebriation and Mongolians always make for an interesting evening, my concern grew.
We found some pockets of youth, but it was apparent that this evening would be dominated by the infirmed. I meet their confused gazes with grins and glass raising. They thankfully ignore me except for one woman.
As I ordered a drink, an elderly woman struck up conversation which quickly devolved into her wanting to take me home. She certainly had good taste, but I flashed my wedding ban (which I discovered was useful for something) and quickly left with my drinks.
The revelers were getting more inebriated and their mobility suffered. I had to remove myself from the overwhelming nonenal odor.
Our entourage consisted of several gentlemen from the Maryland story. Most were seated with their wives or dates at the next table. My house-guest implemented a strategy to chat up another man’s date (I shall call him Carl) and he was succeeding. Meanwhile, Carl decided to spend his evening with me.
I started asking some light questions to ensure there wouldn’t be an altercation. But there was no need for concern. Carl was almost relieved that she was with the house-guest. His paramour was looking for a ring that evening and Carl was not feeling generous.
I attempted to find refuge in the men’s room. This was a mistake. I discovered a chimera; some combination of conventional porn star, used car salesmen, and institutional failure.
The chimera gazed into a mirror saying “you can do it, you can do it”. Unlike Carl, the chimera was looking for the courage to propose. I ran into the object of his affections and overheard her saying marriage is over-rated as she just ended her second attempt.
I made an unlikely friend at the hall the week before. His name was Tony and he was the owner of the establishment. Tony was old school and had a bum leg which was a consequence for “not keeping his cool”.
He took a liking to me and the Mongolian (mistaking him for a southern Italian) when we purchased tickets the week before. From that point on, he had greeted me with affectionate terms such as “cocksucker” and “mother fucker”. On New Year’s Eve, Tony made an effort to point us out to the guests. This would prove to be a mistake.
After midnight, all in attendance were gathered together to sing “God Bless America”. I must have forgotten the words after grade school and had no desire to fake it, so I left the singing masses and went back to the bar.
When I returned, the Mongolian and his wife were getting into a heated argument with an elderly woman. Normally I would allow this to continue but we were the visiting team and old people love a show, so I pulled the Mongolian outside to cool down. Tony and one of his goons followed us out.
The goon had a crude weapon in his hand. To my relief, Tony called him off and also managed to calm the enraged Mongolian. After some investigation, it was revealed that the elderly woman at the center of the incident made a politically incorrect comment to the Mongolian’s wife during “God Bless America”. The Mongolian’s wife is not a meek woman and did not abide such insults, and thus provided the elderly revelers with extra entertainment.
A few minutes before the incident, the Mongolian drunk dialed the taxi service and they arrived shortly after everyone settled down. I was relieved that the night end without a fist being thrown or a hip being broken. Team Mongolia left quietly, but as their cab pulled away the elderly hordes started interrogating me for details. These gentlemen were of Italian descent and I fit their criteria of someone “safe” to converse with.
It was time to leave, but our “world famous” cab driver informed us it would take an hour for him to reach us. As we waited. a odd man with a shambling female companion staggered to the doors and demanded transport. I shared the number to the service warning him it could take a while.
Seeing treachery in his eyes, I followed the odd man outside to ensure he didn’t steal our ride. I considered pushing him into a ditch, but my thoughts were interrupted by his drunken wife bursting through the doors and landing flat on her face.
She wailed as he helped her up and dragged her into the lobby where my house-guest stood. He immediately initiated a conversation. The distraction was fortuitous as our cab arrived with a different driver. We exchanged information and confirmed he was there for us. As I collected my companions, the odd man did what I expected and tried to steal our cab.
As he fumbled with his wallet to offer the driver a bribe, I loaded my group in the passenger side. Realizing the game was lost, the odd man barked out a compromise… we could share a cab. I looked at the thief with compassion and said “absolutely, go get your wife.” The minute he turned his back, I instructed the driver to step on the gas.
The ride home ended with my house-guest requesting McDonald’s and the driver agreeing enthusiastically. This man was much more to our liking and made fun of the previous driver with us. My house-guest ordered several items off the midnight menu happily shared with all as we pulled into my driveway.
As I watched him stagger through my door as I paid the driver, I wondered how many more years would we go through this ritual and decided it would be the last.