Complaining about New Year’s Eve is about as easy and basic as wearing a shirt that says “But first coffee.” Like anything, if you don’t like something about New Year’s, just don’t fucking do it. It’s not hard.
If you don’t want to spend $150 on a ticket to a club that boasts an open bar when in reality it’s only watered down beer and wine and you have to wait behind 28 people to get to it, then don’t fucking do it.
Yes, the lines are long. Yes, it’s cold out. Yes, the alcohol is watered down. Yes, the bars are crowded. Yes, there’s a lot of tourists who walk slow because they’re looking at the sights around them. Yes, your uber is going to be absurdly expensive. Yes, even if you go to a house party or stay home, it will still be an expensive night. And yes, the sequins on your outfit are uncomfortable and will probably give you a rash tomorrow. We get it!
These are the things we know going in, but we still do it every year. And also, it’s the same for everyone. But we all still do it every year. Because people actually love NYE. Anything can happen on NYE.
People lose all inhibitions, they get together with friends they haven’t seen in a while, they get the alcohol flowing and the ill-advised decisions get going. Before you know it, you’re at brunch laughing about who kissed an Eastern European who doesn’t speak english at midnight and who spilled the ranch from the appetizer table on their outfit and went around asking people to find their ‘Hidden Valley’ the rest of the night (true story).
If you really hate NYE that much and are truly only doing it for the Insta, then do us all a favor and just go to bed early. That way, at least the rest of us won’t have to read your irritatingly generic “New Year, Same Me” caption when we already want to kill ourselves on New Years Day.
Life is what you make it; you can complain about New Year’s Eve and all that comes with it or you can just go with it. Personally, I’ll be out there the same as I have been every other year cold, in a crowded room, making a hangover and not worrying about any of it. That’s next year’s problem. .
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